


Ich Liebe Meine Mannschaft

by ThunderFrost2012



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Body Worship, Bossy Miro is bossy, Card Games, Comedy, Consensual Kink, Drunken Confessions, Everyone Is Gay, FIFA World Cup 2014, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Crack, German National Team, Hickeys, Humor, I managed to put fluff too, Implied Relationships, Jealous Miro, Love Confessions, M/M, Marco and Mario have the most ridicolous love nicknames ever, Mario can't live without his iPhone, Mesut likes teasing, Miro fancies everyone, Miro is the king of pondering, Miro mostly fancies Thomas, Multi, Nakedness, Okay this is turning into a parody (sorry not sorry), Promiscuity, Relationship(s), Schweinski is always a good thing, Secret Crush, Sexy Times, Shy Mario is shy, Strip Games, The Author Apologizes, Thomas and Miroslav flirt all time long, Thomas is the king of witty remarks, What-If, alcohol party, cryotherapy, despite the kinkiness it should also be fun..., everyone has secrets, hints of Mats/Benedikt, hot stuff, jealous Bastian, jealous Philipp, mention of Miroslav/Tim (past), mention of Tim Borowski, more jealousy, more kinkness, some Gotzeous Humor, sort of group sex but not really..., this is such a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2018931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderFrost2012/pseuds/ThunderFrost2012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany won the World Cup and now there’s a part of the team who wants to celebrate properly, with a secret goal. What does Miroslav think about it?</p><p>Completed on 10th Feb!!! ^^</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I: I wanna see your animal side

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,  
> after reading so many beautiful fics of this fandom, I’ve decided to give it a try as well *bites nails*  
> This fic was born for a very simple reason: I had to decide the pairings and I couldn’t pick just one so… everyone with everyone!  
> But trust me, it’s not just a PWP.. there’s plot, too, I’ve tried to make it fun…  
> Plus, a friend of mine is going to help me when things get hotter (because they will!) , so far I’m on my own *bites nails again*  
> Disclaimer: This is fictional, it has never happened and I don’t mean to offend anyone, it’s just for fun (and because I’m a helpless fangirl)  
> Important: English is not my language, so I apologize for all the mistakes, I’ve tried my best, but I guess I need a beta.. anyone offering? :)

~~  
I wanna see your animal side  
Let it all out  
I wanna see the dirt  
Under your skin  
I need your broken promises

I want the guts and glory, baby, baby  
(FallOut Boy, ‘Death Valley’)

Screams. Confetti. Camera Flashes. Clapping. Acclamations. Fans and supporters who sing chorus at the top of their lungs.  
People who go wild, people crying happy tears, people crying desperately, but also people who seem utterly insensible to what is happening.  
It depends by on which terrace and which group of fans their looks aim at.  
And then there are the hugs among the teammates, with their eyes that shine and are teary because of all those emotions.  
There’s that priceless winning feeling. Finally.  
Yes, because, after that oh so craved triple whistle from the referee, that dream has become an awesome reality.  
Everyone is jumping out of their skins with happiness, but nobody can do that more than Miroslav Klose.  
He has been waiting for that moment for twelve years, four world championships, where his team has always ended a few steps from the victory, the first time only by a hair.  
But now that cup is in their hands, it’s in his hands. He feels like he’s the king of the world and in a certain way he really is.  
Even their coach, Joachim Löw, has been part of fewer world championships than him, Miroslav deserves it more than anyone else.  
Also because, maybe all the other players will be able to live again such a beautiful experience in the next four years, while that was Miroslav’s last chance to wear that T-shirt, which from three now can finally move to four deserved stars, the last time he could sing the German anthem with his arms around the teammates who are next to him, the last time he could score for Germany.  
And even if such an important match like the final he didn’t manage to do that, he doesn’t care, after all he spurred with all his being Mario Gotze, when the twenty-years old striker replaced him, a few minutes from the end of second half.  
‘You can make it happen.’ He told him and it wasn’t a set phase. He really believed that, he has seen in the young guy’s eyes the same determination that shine in his, the same desire of triumph.  
And it happened.  
As soon as the match ended, Miroslav has looked for him, he has made way among all his cheerful teammates and he hugged him tight, showing him all his endless gratitude.  
And then it was Manuel Neuer’s turn, the best goalkeeper who Germany team has ever had, he has given a fundamental contribute to that miracle.  
Truth is that everyone has given their contribute and Miroslav has hugged them all, one by one: Bastian Schweinsteiger, Thomas Müller, Lukas Podolski, Mesut Ozil, their captain Philipp Lahm and all the rest of the team.  
Yeah, that’s true, maybe there’s even a tiny, remote possibility to be part of Europe 2016, although Miroslav already rejects such idea. Besides, it wouldn’t be the same. Europe championships are great and exciting, but they can’t recreate the same atmosphere you can breathe at a World Championship.  
And he wants to carry on breathing that atmosphere; he wants to enjoy that last chance to its very last bit. He won’t ever forget that day.  
That’s why he screams, laughs, jumps and show all his excitement, close to his teammates, while they’re swapping the cup -that captain Lahm has proudly lifted as first- like it was a sort of peace Calumet.  
It’s his turn to lift that cup and scream his joy, while he move his look, having a panoramic, general view, before lingering on his beautiful kids and his beloved wife who are watching him with pride from the field.  
 Yes, that’s his family, but even there, where he’s at the moment… it’s his family as well.  
No, he doesn’t want to think that that could be the last time he can spend some time with all of them. That’s not the moment for sad and pessimistic reflections.  
Among short interviews across the field, one million of other pictures and congratulations from everyone, happy thoughts are back soon, mostly when he’s framed into a picture with his lovely twins who are both busy kissing the cup.  
It’s easy to read in the kids’ look how proud of their daddy they are and how much they want to follow in their glorious father’s footsteps.  
Gradually the terraces become empty, until it’s time even for the team to leave that field once for all, treasuring all the wonderful memories and emotions that it brought.  
The WAGS leave their partners, walking away with the kids, so the athletes are free to go back to the locker room and change their clothes.  
  
“WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD!” an overexcited Bastian acts like a claque, instigating quickly a collective chorus who is singing that motto with deep conviction.  
In such a cheerful spirit, a shirtless Thomas approaches Miroslav who is about to take his T-shirt off.  
“Hey, worldwide top scorer, enjoy your record as long as you can, because I’m going to steal it from you!” The gorgeous attacker announces, lashing his bottom playfully with a towel.  
He expects a scrappier reaction, maybe even an insult, instead Miroslav smiles at him. And it’s not a fictional smile, it’s genuine.  
“You know what, Müllie?” The older murmurs, slapping lightly his cheek. “Among all the players who could do that, I’d be only honored if it was just you to succeed.” He confesses the last part in the boy’s ear, placing a soft kiss on his temple.  
Both things leave the young player pretty dizzy.  
“Well, maybe don’t have all this rush, please. Let me enjoy my record until 2022… c’mon, am I asking you that much?” Miroslav pretends to pout, making his listener smile.  
“That’s fine, it means that in 2018 I’ll restrict myself only to matching Ronaldo’s record!” Thomas shrugs, like it was a piece of cake and then both he and Miroslav burst out laughing at that.  
“Hey, what are you two confabbing?” Mesut interrupts them, assaulting Thomas behind his back.  
The awesome Turkish has already had his shower, covered only by a towel wrapped around his groin.  
Miroslav finds himself wishing that that towel could loosen just a little bit more, because if he’s already liking a lot what he’s seeing, he knows for sure that he would enjoy as well, if not more, what is hidden to him.  
  
The worldwide top scorer recovers from that temporary trance and bits his lower lip. Dammit! He has worked so hard to suffocate that kind of compulsions. At least, since they have reached the quarter finals, he was sure he had managed to do that brilliantly...  
  
“Nothing involving you, Mesut, it was only chatter between phenomenal strikers!” Thomas replies with pretended self-importance.  
“ _Modest_ strikers, too, I have to say!” Mesut strikes back sarcastically, before recalling the reason why he’s there.  
“Hurry up with the shower and once you’re ready, reach us in the other room, because our captain has something to tell us.” Mesut informs them, exchanging an understanding wink with Thomas who has already figured everything out.  
That only means that they’re going to enact that plan they’ve been talked about for a while.  
Miroslav is too engrossed admiring Mesut’s abs to notice their understanding looks; Mesut is too busy trying to make their plan work to notice how the panzer is staring at him.  
But Thomas noticed that very well, that’s why, once Mesut leaves them alone, he decides to tease the other a bit more.  
  
“Well, Miro, if we have to hurry up, maybe we’d better have our shower together, mmh?” he suggests, stirring in a sexy way.  
The Pole stares at him puzzled, unable to utter a single word, before the other burst out laughing.  
“Oh, c’mon, it was a joke. I mean, it’s not that we’re lacking shower stalls here!” The German giggles, picking up his clean clothes and going to the closer shower stall.  
Deep inside, Thomas is very flattered by the result he has obtained and he’s proud of the embarrassment he has created in his teammate.  
About Miroslav, among Mesut’s almost total nudity and Thomas’ sexy advances, no matter if they were fake or not, he decides that he’s going to have a very, very icy shower!  
  
After that shower that proved to be utterly useless to cool down his hot-blooded instincts, Miroslav reaches all the rest of the group, which sit on the benches, moved to create a sort of circle.  
Their captain sits in the middle of it.  
Miroslav is glad not to be the most latecomer, because it’s only when Thomas arrives that Philipp can finally speak.  
“Well, guys, I’m not going to draw out telling you how great we all have been today...”  
“WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS OF THE WOOOOORLD!” Bastian yells once again.  
“Schweini, enough is enough. We got it!” Toni rolls his eyes.  
“So what? It’s the truth and I have the right to remind everyone of that, even until 2018 if I want!” The gorgeous midfielder strikes back, shrugging.  
“Can we drink a beer every time you say that?” Manuel hazards.  
“Manu! Don’t give him such ideas, otherwise he’s going to repeat it every hour!” Toni complains.  
“It’s just what I wish!” The stunning goalkeeper sneers.  
“Are you done?” Philipp take back the reins of command, with authoritarian calm.  
“Sorry.” The three guilty guys groan in unison, lowering their heads, like too lively children who have been reproached by their teacher.  
“I was saying... we gained our more than deserved victory, now it’s only a matter of... celebrate.” The captain goes on.  
“Dinner at one of the most exclusive restaurants and then tour of all the discotheques around the coast, till dawn!” Sami suggests, eager at the only thought.  
 “There couldn’t be a better way. So I also have the chance to show the town to my Cathy!” Mats agrees.  
Also Benedikt, Jerome, Toni, Per, André and many others nod in full approval.  
However, Philipp doesn’t seem to like that prospect very much.  
“Frivolous restaurants and discotheques? Yeah, maybe it’s cool, but I’m not up for that. Without mentioning all the paparazzi around and every media ready to assault us…” He grumbles.  
“But it’s just that stuff that makes everything even cooler!” Sami chuckles, giving a high five to Jerome.  
  
“It’s a matter of points of view. I was planning something quieter, also because it’s our last night here, all together, after this wonderful adventure that lasted more than a month…”  
“That’s the point, I guess we’ve spent even too much time all together!” Per strikes back pungently, making at least half team chuckle.  
“I’ll tell you what, I’d rather remain alone on our own, calm, without going out. In intimacy.” The captain suggests, gaining many confused looks and frowns.  
“Of course, I’m not forcing everyone, you don’t have to feel obliged. Quite the contrary, you’re free to chose the option you prefer. So whoever loves trendiest and teenybopper ways to celebrate is free to go.” He asserts.  
Hearing those words a remarkable number of people get up, leaving the lockers and closing the door behind their backs.  
  
Someone still sits on the bench, in random order: Thomas, Bastian, Lukas, Manuel, Mario, Mesut, Philipp, obviously, and... Miroslav.  
“Too much trendy frivolousness is not my cup of tea.” The older asserts, almost as if he wanted to answer to that secret question everyone is silently asking.  
 After all, those seven people already knew that they would remain there. It’s that eight element who is nurturing everyone’s expectations.  
“So you’re one of us!” Manuel smiles at him.  
“I don’t know. Maybe I’d better just go. Stay quiet with Sylwia and the kids and start to think about the training camp with Lazio, without too much mistreatment. Besides, tomorrow there’s the flight…” the worldwide top scorer grumbles.  
“No, are you already leaving us? Am I wrong or you declared to the media that you had a beast inside you to awake in case of victory?” Bastian makes him notice, pouting.  
“Yeah, right, that’s what I did before, on the field. Didn’t you see me with the photographers? The screams, the jumps and stuff!” Miroslav replies.  
“Oh, please. Beast, my ass! That was barely a cute puppy!” Mesut makes fun of him and all the others laugh.  
“Well, yeah, I suppose that maybe I could do things better than that…” Miroslav mutters, awkwardly, as he stares at the ground.  
“You suppose right!” Manuel pats his shoulder, since he’s sitting close to him, on his right. “Guys, let’s show Miro what to celebrate really means!” He incites the team.  
“Well-told. C’mon, Miroslav, take part to our night for men only. We definitely deserve it.” Mario spurs him.  
  
He can’t bring himself to call him ‘Miro’ like everyone else does. It sounds just too confidential for someone who he considers to be a sort of god. Besides, the other players have been knowing him for longer, instead he’s the newly arrived.  
“C’mon, Miro, I’m sure that if you ask Sylwia, she will understand.” Philipp incites him, since the captain has much more confidence with him.  
“I’d like to, but I don’t think that…” Miroslav weakly protests, but he startles when Lukas, who sits at his left, puts a hand on his thigh.  
“Please, Miro, without you it wouldn’t be the same thing.” He implores the older, with such a sad puppy look that would give a hard time to everyone.  
And even more lethal is the crooked smile that Thomas casts at him.  
“Think about it, Miro. There’s plenty of time to go back to the routine of the normal days. But tonight is unique.” The young striker makes him notice.  
“Thomas is right. Maybe our Germany will be this lucky again, in the next years. But this is the only chance that we have to live this experience, all together, right now.” Bastian adds and he can be as convincing as stubborn.  
“See? You just have to honor us with your presence, Legend!” Thomas retorts, winking at him.  
  
“Okay, if you insist so much…” Miroslav gives in.  
Sure, as it was a real surrender. A whole night with his favorite teammates? Miroslav couldn’t ask for anything better.  
“We do insist.” Philipp states.  
“Okay, fine, but at least stop calling me ‘Legend’, ‘Hero’ and stuff like that. I’m your equal. I’m just like you. Okay, maybe I’m a little older…” the beautiful Pole recognizes. “So much older.” He adds, as soon as he sets his eyes on Mario.  
The twenty-years old guy’s cheeks blush in a lovely way and he’s the first to break contact with those amazing icy eyes.  
“As you wish, our equal just a little bit older!” Manuel addresses to him wittingly.  
“So it’s all set. Everyone at my place. I’m the captain. I have the duty and the right of offering hospitality” Philipp announces.  
“And you’re for sure the one with the hugest and most beautiful room!” Mesut adds.  
“Of course I am. And I have so many beds!” The blond points out, with a lustful spark in his eyes.  
  
Miroslav silently wonders why beds should be involved with celebrating, but jumps on his own to the conclusion that maybe they could be useful if they get so drunk that it would be hard for them to go back to their rooms.  
Truth must be said: he would rather involve said beds in a more intriguing way, but he’s pretty sure that none of his teammates would agree.  
  
“That’s fine, so I’m going to bring a super collection of proper beers!” Bastian assures.  
“And I’ll bring a bottle of Raki. You’ll see, guys, you’re going to thank me for that.” Mesut smirks.  
“Wait a minute. is it that amazing thing you made us taste during the Arsenal party?” Lukas asks for confirmation.  
“Yep!” The Turkish nods fiercely.  
“You’ll see, guys, we are going to thank him for real!” The young Pole states.  
“Instead I’ll bring you the Jenever. it’s a bomb. Cillessen gave it to me and he told me that it’s what they gave to Krul in order to psych him up before the penalties.” Manuel confesses, cheerful.  
“I guess they gave him just a nip, otherwise he would have seen twenty balloons at every shot!” Bastian comments.  
“Maybe that’s the trick of his success!” Mesut chuckles.  
But Philipp isn’t smiling at all.  
“Manu, tell us, since when have you been in such good terms with the rival goalkeepers?” The captain asks him, bitterly.  
If he didn’t know him better, Miroslav could swear that Philipp is… jealous!  
“Hey, it’s World Cup, here’s there’s plenty  of people. Netherlands has arrived to the end, just like us, so there’s nothing bad if I socialize a bit with him, then, you know, there’s such a feeling between goalkeepers!” Manuel justifies.  
“You tend to socialize way too much!” Philipp snorts.  
“Oh c’mon, Phips, look at the positive side of the matter: I got super good Dutch alcohol!” The other strikes back, putting a smile back on the captain’s features.  
“Alright! I know I was doing the right thing when I put a bottle of Krupnik in my bags, in case of necessity: to consulate us in case of defeat, but mostly to celebrate in case of victory!” Lukas smirks, shrewdly.  
“Did you say… did you really say Krupnik?” Miroslav asks for confirmation, with his eyes that already shine in anticipation.  
“You’ve heard me damn well, Miro.” His interlocutor nods with another smirk. “Tell me, how long haven’t’ you been drinking it?”  
“Too long.” The other groans.  
“Let me see if I got it straight. You two are babbling about some Polish rubbish!” Bastian mutters, very skeptical.  
“Hey! At least first have a taste of it, then we’ll see if you dare to call it ‘rubbish’ again!” Miroslav snaps, sort of disappointed.  
“Well, if that’s the effect that only mentioning Krupnik has on him … guess what could happen when he drinks it!” Lukas whispers at his best friend’s ear, making him smile.  
“I’m going to bring Vodka, then. I mean, okay, Russians are not very talented for football, but it’s undeniable they’re unbeatable in matter of super-alcoholics!” Thomas giggles.  
“Well, I can bring some snacks.” Mario shyly offers.  
“But if you’re bringing all this stuff.. what can I bring?” Miroslav wonders.  
“It’s enough if you bring yourself!” Lukas winks at him.  
“Sure. You’re the special guest, no special guest has ever been asked to bring something.” Philipp retorts.  
“Whatever. I don’t find it fair…” The older protests.  
  
“Okay, here’s the deal: everyone at my room, around dinner time. Wives and fiancés far away.” Philipp recaps, getting up from the bench, like the others do.  
“Alright. So what can we do now?” Mesut wonders.  
“We have to go outside and spend a lot of time with photographers, journalists and having short interviews. All the others must already be there.” The captain answers, smiling.  
“Yep, mostly Angela Merkel is going to assault us and never let us go!” Thomas complains, recalling all her hugs and congratulations during the ceremony.  
“Well, at least there’s also Rihanna who wants to pay us a visit!” Bastian states.  
“Well, I’d like to hold her in my arms much more than the World Cup!” The gorgeous Turkish confesses, smirking.  
  
Miroslav laughs with the others, making similar appreciations and sucking it up.  
Truth is that he’d rather hold in his arms someone else…  
  
TBC


	2. II: Ashamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas hates starving, Jealous Miro is jealous, Philipp loves discipline, Mario is i-Phone addcited and that's only few of the (crazy) stuff you'll find here ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo,  
> wow! Huge thanks for all the kudos and huger thanks for comments and bookmarks, I’m flattered *O*  
> Well, I’ve updated in a week, which to me means to be fast. Incredibly fast. Too fast. I guess it’s not going to happen again XD  
> still without a beta, sorry for mistakes :/  
> and sorry for all the craziness inside, as well XD

_There's always something that makes you guilty_  
 _There's still something that you're dying to tell me_  
 _Make sure no one finds out Tell me all about it_  
 _Don't keep it to yourself Because I can't bear the thought_  
 _I never leave you crying I know you love me_  
 _It doesn't matter because I'm in control_  
 _I know that you're ashamed So emotional that it kills you_  
 _Don't you know that you're ashamed? So emotional that it kills you_  
 _(Muse, ‘Ashamed’)_  
   
 _/ “C’mon, Miro, I’m sure that if you ask Sylwia, she will understand”/_

Recalling Philipp’s words, Miroslav did it.  
He has asked Sylwia and she has understood.  
Well, she has understood in a way that will Bring Miroslav to buy her a very nice gift to apologize, to promise that he will be more helpful with the chores and to set an unspecified number of nights where, when his professional tasks allows him to, he’s going to stay home with the kids, while she’s free to go out with her friends who she has met in Rome.  
It’s a price that Miroslav proved to be more than willing to pay.  
While he’s heading towards the captain’s room, he’s taking advantage of every available mirror along the corridors to check himself, arrange his hair, decide if he looks better with the collar of his shirt raised up or bent down and try every sort of facial expressions.  
Lucky for him, no one is passing by and can see him. They wouldn’t recognize him. Miroslav is the first who can barely recognize himself. Miroslav Klose, the champion of the world, the record-man, the cool-headed and upright  player on field… now has turned into a teenager during his very first date.  
Why does he feel so nervous? Why does he have such great expectations from that night?  
It’s about his teammates; he has seen them countless times among coaching, training camps, qualifications matches, friendly matches and several rendezvous.  
And yet he has the feeling that there’s something different in that night, but maybe it’s only the Brazil frisky air and the post-victory adrenaline.  
While he’s still busy wondering that, he knocks at Lahm’s door and the owner of the room opens it.

“Mirooo, welcome! Make yourself at home!” a cheerful Philipp says. A way too cheerful Philipp.  
“Nope, he didn’t drink yet. I’ve already ask him, too. He’s just excited for this night, all together. Everyone is.” Mesut answers to Miroslav’s inner question, greeting him.  
Miroslav couldn’t swear it, but he has the feeling that Mesut said that ‘all together’ with a sexy innuendo, but then he remembers who is in front of him. Mesut has such a sensual charge that he could turn even a bland term like ‘goal kick’ into something sinful.  
“Uh, what’s that thing? Miroslav, you shouldn’t have! It wasn’t necessary.”  Mario approaches him, taking the package from his hands.  
“I felt like doing that.” The oldest justifies, helping him to open that wrapped tray.  
“Oohhhh, it’s Brigadeiros!” Thomas chips in, spying behind their shoulders.  
Miroslav slightly envies that perfect pronounce that he hadn’t managed to mirror before, in the pastry shop, but in a mixture of English, German, Polish and a bit of Italian, too, gesticulating madly – another thing he has learned from Italians- , he managed to make that shop-girl who spoke only Portoguese understand him.  
“I’ve never eaten them, but I’ve been told they’re delicious!” Thomas smiles at him.  
‘They would taste even better on you’ Miroslav would like to reply, but he confines himself only to basking in that smile that he adores.  
To him, Thomas’ smile is just like a sunny day after a stormy week.  
Truth is that as soon as Miroslav saw those sweets, he pictured himself while he smeared their creamy, chocolate core on his bared teammates’ neck, chest and belly, in order to clean them up his way.  
But, of course, that’s not the main reason why he has bought them!  
   
“Hello, World Champion.” Manuel murmurs, hugging him from behind.  
“Hello, World Champion.” Miroslav quotes his words, tilting his head to look at him. “You know, I could easily get accustomed to this.” he murmurs contentedly.  
“To what? To this epithet or to my hugs?” Manuel smiles, holding him tighter.  
“To both things.” the gorgeous Pole admits.  
There’s a remarkable gap between the iron grips those arms and those hands can perform when they’re used to defend the goal post from the attacks of the opponent team and their extreme tenderness when they’re used to hold someone.  
That’s why Miroslav likes cheering up with Manuel when their team scores when they end a victorious match, jumping on him and clinging to him like a koala to a eucalyptol.  
The duo is interrupted by the unmistakable noise of an i-Phone that has just taken a picture.  
“You were too impossible cute! Sorry, I couldn’t resist!” Philipp justifies, while he stares at the picture.  
 “What are you doing, Phips? Are you acting like those paparazzi you were afraid to meet outside?” Mesut teases him.  
“Yeah, sure, actually I can’t wait to sell this picture to all the gossip magazines!” The Captain plays along with him.  
“Well, you should keep that picture for evil purposes. You can use it I order to blackmail them for life and turning them into your personal slaves.” The fascinating Turk instigates him.  
For strange reasons, Miroslav wouldn’t complain about such possibility…  
“Give it to me!” Manuel says, snatching the i-Phone from Philipp’s hands and pulling him closer. He bends down to be cheek to cheek and then he clicks the proper button to frame them into that picture.  
“Here we go, now you can add it to the cutest things to keep!” The younger guy winks at him, giving the mobile back to him.  
“Thank you, Manu. After all, we should have more selfies together.” The captain beams, ruffling his hair affectionately.  
Miroslav studies them with great attention. That’s not the usual behavior between friends… or is it? He can’t understand nothing clearly anymore.  After all, there wasn’t the selfie mania or such excessive use of mobiles in general when he was with…

 “Dammit! How long does it take to Bianca and Bernard to be here?” Thomas snaps, bringing him back to present time.  
“Pardon… who?” He asks him in confusion.  
“Oh, c’mon! Bianca and Bernard, Chip and Dale, Morty and Ferdie, Tip und Tap… call them as you please, I mean those two. The inseparable ones!” The other answers, while he fidgets nervously.  
“I have to admit, those nicknames fit them so much!” The oldest chuckles, noticing that, as a matter of fact, Lukas and Bastian are the only ones who are missing.  
“C’mon, I’m sure they’ll be here in a heartbeat. If they’re not here in five minutes, I’m going to call them at the phone.” Philipp assures.  
As a proper captain, he always wants to keep every situation under control, both on field and in life.  
“I hoooupe shho. I’m ssttarfing here!” Thomas laboriously strikes back, his mouth full, since he’s busy devouring some crisps that he has taken from a bowl.  
Just before the expiration of said five minutes, there’s a double knock at the door.  
“It must be them.” Philipp easily figures out, opening the door and finding his theories verified.  
 “Good evening, Bianca. Good evening, Bernard.” Miroslav addresses to them, making Thomas chuckle.  
The two latecomers stares at each other, puzzled.  
“They have already started getting drunk, without us!” Bastian whispers in his best friend’s ear.  
“Please, forgive us for being late. It’s just that we couldn’t recall where your room was, Phips.” Lukas apologizes.  
“Yeah, and every corridor of this damn hotel is identical. No wonders if people get lost!” Bastian adds, while all the others shower them with their looks of pure disbelief.  
Miroslav analyzes his two friends deeply.  
Both have their clothes a little creased, their hair messy – well, only Basti’s hair, for Lukas is practically impossible!-, a fake sorrowful attitude and a very badly hidden satisfaction.  
And their made-up justifications sound just like… pathetic excuses. Could it be that… ?  
Miroslav ponders again. It’s Bastian and Lukas he’s dealing with. He knows them for so many years, they are always together, sometimes even in too ambiguous attitudes. They’re the best friends par excellence. And yet something isn’t right.  
There are too many weird coincidences, too many happenings that are making him suspicious.

Miroslav quickly goes through all the previous episodes: Phips' jealousy towards Manu, Schweini and Poldi who arrive late on purpose and… was it just his imagination or before he spotted Thom and Mesu while they were feeding each other with a canapé in the most sensual way a human mind could ever conceive?  
And what about Mario? He just sits in corner, with his eyes glued to his i-Phone and he smiles like an idiot every time he receives a text message or a whatssap.  
And Miroslav’s smart sixth sense tells him they’re not from his fiancée, but from someone far away.  
What really matters is that that rendezvous seems to have all the requirements to turn really interesting.  
   
“My regards to you, Prima Donna who finally bothered to pay us visit!” Thomas barks.  
“What?” Lukas frowns.  
“Who are you referring to?” Bastian asks him.  
“I just see a Prima Donna with two heads, four legs and four arms who were blowing us off and were about to screw up both this night and mostly this dinner! You are twenty-six damn minutes late!” The young striker roars.  
Because, obviously, a handful of crisps and half canapé to Thomas are NOT a dinner!  
“Well, thank your lucky stars that he’s not counting the seconds, too!” Mesut chuckles.  
“Don’t mind at Thom, guys, he’s only a bit bitchy because he’s hungry.” Manuel justifies him.  
“Okay, if I’m not wrong, we’ve already apologized. However, now that we are all here, we can start to stuff ourselves, c’mon!” Lukas states, approaching to the buffet table with the others.  
“Hey, wait a minute, what are these? They look so yummy!” Bastian says, pointing at the Brigadeiros.  
“Miroslav brought them to us.” Mario points out.  
“Oh, that’s so nice from you!” The younger Pole smiles at the older one.  
Bastian is about to take one, but Philipp leaps out at him, blocking him with such a impetuousness that maybe not even Manuel has when he leaves his goal post to block an attacker.  
“Don’t you even try, those sweets are for later. No one starts a dinner from the dessert!” The Captain asserts, holding his hand firmly. “Now put it back on the tray!” He orders.  
“Okay, okay, just calm the hell down, buddy!” The midfielder rolls his eyes, but pleases him.  
“That’s our dear Phips, he flies off the handle if someone doesn’t proceed in order!” Manuel giggles, while everyone pours the food in their dishes.  
The room service is mostly made of the most typical Brazilian specialties.  
  “Thank your lucky stars that it didn’t get cold!” Thomas grunts, taking some pieces of Churrasco and Caranguejo.  
After a few mouthfuls of that, Thomas goes back to his awesome, usual good mood.  
“Now I do recognize you!” Miroslav beams at him.  
“You know, Miro, our dear Thomas becomes impossible just in two cases: when he’s starving, like you all saw before, and… when he doesn’t get laid!” Mesut informs him, with all the nonchalance he can muster.  
Miroslav almost chokes with the Coconut Chicken he’s eating.  
“Wha… what di- did you just say?” He coughs, wondering why he’s speaking so high-pitched.  
How can Mesut know such a detail?  
That’s the only thought Miroslav is racking his brain with, while he feels pangs at his stomach. And he already knows it’s not a matter of hunger.  
However, he prefers not to investigate about what kind of jealousy it is.  
If it’s true that the eventuality of having Mesut at his whole disposal is making Miroslav having thoughts as pure as the Ganges’ water, it’s also true that Thomas is… well, Thomas.

“Okay, kids, run to uncle Basti here to start the night properly!” Bastian calls them, opening the portable mini-fridge he has brought with him and handing to everyone a can from his very prestigious collection.  
After a general toast, everyone lets that excellent ice cold beer restore them.  
 The dinner goes on, among laughs and chattering. Mario decides to turn the TV on, tuning just on the rerun of the big final match against Argentina.  
“Good for us that it’s almost the end of second half, we definitely didn’t make a good impression during the first half!” Philipp states sharply, while they all are watching the screen.  
“Oh c’mon, captain, spare the lecture to us! Fresh news: we actually won.” Thomas strikes back, with an annoyed gesture of his hand.  
In the meantime Miroslav re-experiences that standing-ovation from the crowd when he left the field.  
“The very last time.” He murmurs, visibly touched.  
An instant later, Mario is already hugging him.  
“No, don’t talk like that. Who knows? Maybe in the next Europe championship…” The youngest tries to comfort him.  
Miroslav shakes his head negatively. That’s a decision he has already made.  
Also Philipp hugs him tight.  
“Guess what? You’re not the only one who’s leaving the team. But for now don’t tell the others yet, please!” He confesses in a whisper.  
They exchange a silent but meaningful look.  
“You know… when I replaced you … what you told me, the way you looked at me… it was special.” Mario shyly admits.  
Miroslav looks at him, caressing his hair.  
“ _You_ are special.”  
“Well, there are other ways to keep being a part of the team.” Manuel chips in. “I’m sure that good old Joachy would be glad to have you as his assistant!”  
“You’d be the most brilliant one, ever!” Mesut assures.  
“I don’t know…” Miroslav mutters, unsure.  
“Whatever happens, Miro, nothing can prevent you from following us as a supporter. And you’ll always have a reserved place in the locker rooms!” Thomas winks at him, bringing back the smile on his features.  
It’s something that the young striker always manages to do successfully.

“There, there, I know what you need to kick the melancholy away!” Lukas asserts.  
“Krupnik?” The worldwide striker understands immediately.  
“Hell yeah, my good friend!” The younger Pole nods, taking the bottle and handing a glass to everyone, straight and at room-temperature, as tradition requests.  
Bastian stares intently at his glass, making the liquid inside rock, grimacing in disbelief.  
“Okay, let’s try this rubb..”  
Miroslav, which is already savouring every note of honey in that sort of vodka, glares at him.  
“This stuff.” Bastian corrects himself, deciding to drink it and lingering on its taste.  
“Hey, it’s not bad at all! Well done, Polish people!” He grins, while he keeps on drinking it.  
“Yeah, it’s good, but we’re going to open my bottle next!” Mesut announces.  
“Fuck yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Lukas rejoices, or rather his alcohol level does.  
“You can already do it!” Manuel exhorts him, since he’s already finished his glass.

The Turk pleases him and goes to Philipp’s fridge bar, where he has previously put the Raki and he also takes some bottles of water in the icebox.  
“Water?!” Bastian wonders, horrified, as if he was pouring venom in their glasses.  
“Basti, believe me or not, but it’s better if you drink it watered down, otherwise it could be dangerous, especially if mixed with what we already drank.” Lukas acts like his conscience.  
“Oh, please, I’m not a kid, I can hold my booze!” The stunning midfielder guarantees.  
“Sure, sure. The last one who said that was found while he was running naked, at deep night, across the highway, screaming that the end of the world was near!” Mesut informs him, while he pours the liquor, watering it.  
“Craps!” Bastian snaps.  
“Okay, you’re right, I was just teasing you. Let’s clear things, then: this thing can knock you down, really, and it would be such a pity if you missed this night only because you felt asleep or, even worse, you passed out!” The Turk warns him.  
“Yeah, to sleep is out of schedule tonight!” Manuel asserts, slyly.  
“Okay, I got the message. Get my drink watered down, too.” Bastian gives in.  
The combination of the icy water and the intense aroma of anise gives a wonderful fresh sensation.  
“Hey, buddy, this stuff is a bomb! What were you waiting for to share it with us?” Manuel asks him.  
“Told you so.” Lukas singsongs.  
That drink is appreciated by everyone, but the most enthusiastic it’s Bastian.  
“I want to drink Raki ‘till the end of my days, I love it!” He declares, emptying his glass and gesturing Mesut to give him a second one.  
“Do you love it even more than beer?” Mesut challenges him, pouring other Raki with water.  
“Well, let’s not exaggerate now…” The other mutters.

\-------------------------------------

It’s eleven o’ clock. Someone sometimes crunches some crisps or salted biscuits, everyone has already enjoyed a lot both Brigadeiros and Jenever; now they’re all busy passing one another the only bottle of Vodka left, as if it was a reefer and they were at a rave party, but… nothing else happens.  
And yet Miroslav is still sure that something is going to happen, it’s almost as if his mates were dying to tell him something, but they weren’t brave enough.  
Truth is that even Miroslav could make everything start… if only he didn’t lack courage as well.  
A heavy silence dominates in that room, as if they didn’t know what else they can do anymore.  
How can it be that they didn’t even manage to last until midnight?  
Miroslav observes the scenario in front of his eyes: TV is still on, as a soft background, but now it’s broadcasting something unintelligible, Philipps is comfortably sitting on Manuel’s lap, while Lukas finds more comfortable to sit on Bastian’s back, while he lays down on the floor.  
Mario sits on one bed, his legs crossed, while he’s still busy texting with his I-Phone.  
But to Miro the most comfortable thing is the head that Thomas is resting on his shoulder.  
It would be perfect, if only Mesut wasn’t resting his head on Thomas’s lap.  
Although he has to admit that he’s cute.  
The point is that it seems just like one of those typical Proms where everyone is full of expectations but in the end the girls spend all night isolated in a corner and they boys stay at another corner, without interactions.  
The only difference is that right now, in that room, there are only guys.  
   
“I’m fed up, let’s do something. Anything!” Mesut snaps, but he’s just mirroring everyone’s thoughts.  
“Well, I brought cards…” Philipp hazards.  
“Yeeeeah, right, let’s play Doppelkopf!” Manuel cheers up.  
“Why? Do ya think ya’re alert enough to count the trumps?” Bastian slurs.  
“No bloody way, I guess I can’t even bring myself to count till ten right now!” The goalkeeper laughs, taking another sip of Vodka.  
“Well, we could play an easier version, without the trumps, the bidding, the Hockzeit, the Solo…” Lukas suggests, taking the bottle from him.  
“But .. nooo, there’s nothing left of the game this way!” Mario slurs in protest.  
“Yep, so why don’t we just pick and discard cards random, without any logic?” Mesut says.  
“Yeeeah, that’s exactly what I want!” Manuel approves.  
“No way! We’re going to play a card game following its rules!” Philipp lively protests and if only he wasn’t so dizzy he would get up, in order to make his speech more solemn.  
Manuel cuddles him.  
“Awww, see how my little Fusspot General is disciplining us?” He chuckles, peppering him with noisy kisses on his cheek.  
“Okay, so let’s play Skat!” Thomas suggests.  
“Yeah, that’s an easy game for sure, with all the Auction, the Null, the Schneider or Schwartz announces…” Miroslav makes him sarcastically notice.  
“Dammit! Why do we have only those so bloody complicated card games?” Thomas snorts, with the same attitude of a spoiled kid.  
Which is lovely to Miroslav’s eyes.  
And he’s just him that maybe has the solution.  
“Guys, I know a very easy game, it’s called ‘Steal the deck’. Lazio guys taught me that…”  
Thomas hates whenever he mentions that team that always brings Miro so far from him, but he prefers not to say anything.  
“How easy is it?” Manuel asks him curios, raising his eyebrow.  
“Four cards on deal and three cards to each player. When it’s your turn if you have a card that’s identical to one in the deal or you have the sum of two cards in the deal, you must pick them. For example, if you have 7 and on deal there’s 4 and 3 you can pick them. Is it okay so far?”  
“Perfectly clear, go on.” Bastian exhorts him.  
“If you can’t do anything, you just discard it. When you pick some cards from the deal, you must make your deck visible. If  one of the players has the same card of your deck he can steal it from you. When the cards end, the winner is the one with more cards in his deck.” Miroslav concludes.  
“Wow, it’s easy for real. C’mon, let’s try it!” Mario gets excited.  
“Yeah, the problem is that it’s for four players…” The older explains.  
“What’s the problem? We can make four teams of two people!” Philipp decides.

“I choose Basti!” Lukas yells.  
“I choose Poldi!” Bastian yells in unison.  
“I guess we have the first team made.” Manuel sarcastically comments.  
“You’re worse than two kids at school who don’t want to be in separated desks!” Mesut makes fun of them.  
“Oh, c’mon, guys, it’s already terrible enough when we have to play versus each other in Champions!” Bastian explains, hugging his best friend.  
“Yep, at least when we can, let us be together!” Lukas adds.  
“You’re so cute!” Miroslav smiles at them. “So which is the next team?”  
Manuel pulls Mario close to him.  
“Stay with me, kid, we’re going kick their asses!” He offers and the younger nods.  
“Well, Miro, what do you say? We’ve always been a winning match on field, do you want to find out if it works only with football?” Philipp suggests.  
“It will be a honor, captain!” The Pole smiles at him.  
“Alright, so there’s left me with Thomas!” Mesut grins, giving a high five to his teammate.  
“We are a winning match as well!” Thomas sneers maliciously.  
Miro almost repents for his idea, while Philipp hands the cards to him.  
“Wait, Miro, can we add a rule?” Mesut asks him.  
“Such as?” The Pole frowns.  
The gorgeous Turk doesn’t hesitate to describe his hot idea.  
“Let’s play to ‘Steal the Cloth’: every time a team steals the deck from another team, they can take them off a cloth as well! What do you say?”  
   
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you’re having fun and are curious to see the rest ;)  
> Among Brazil food, German card games and World alcohol, I made so many researches, lol, I thank Google for that!  
> Please, tell me whatever you please. Even a word can make my day and criticism can only make me improve. ;)


	3. III: We gotta start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically , lots of pondering... and then the game starts ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo again,  
> wow, I’m speechless by all the kudos, the comments, the bookmarks! *O*  
> Thank you sosososososo much, don’t be shy, please, keep’em coming, it’s my fuel to write ;)
> 
> By the way, let me introduce my friend Vale, she’s wonderful and will co-write with me from now on (the ‘steal the deck ‘ idea was hers to begin with, she’s a genius!) 
> 
> She wrote half a chapter and I wrote the other half ;) 
> 
> Huge thanks to Peter_Ambos for being such a wonderful beta and supporter :)
> 
> Hugs,  
> Lu

   
 _Our hearts are hungry for a food that won’t come,_  
 _We could make a feast from these crumbs,_  
 _And we’re all staring down the barrel of a gun,_  
 _So if your life flashed before you,_  
 _What would you wish you would’ve done?_  
 _Yeah, gotta start,_  
 _Looking at the hand of time we’ve been given here,_  
 _This is all we’ve got and we gotta start thinkin’ it,_  
 _Every seconds counts on the clock that’s ticking,_  
 _Gotta live like we’re dying._

_(The Script, ‘Live like we’re dying’)_

 

Steal the cloth, uh?  
Well, that would be an intriguing variation of the game for sure! Not just because, depending on how many matches they’re going to have, there’s the eventuality that someone could remain utterly naked – no, wait, correction: knowing Manuel, it’s practically assured that they all will end up with not having anything to cover their bodies, but only because that guy deeply believes that he has to continue with his mission and go whole hog, and although this is one of his qualities that makes him a great goalkeeper, in this special case Miroslav perfectly knows that Manu won’t be satisfied until he leaves all the others as they came out of their mother’s womb – but mostly because there has been that strange air of expectations and sexual tension all night long and, counting also all those awkward, weird and kind of ambiguous moments, this could be the oh so craved opportunity to blow off all this energy.

If on one hand Miroslav was just waiting for such a moment, on the other hand he can’t help but wonder where all this stuff will lead him to. Since he accepted to spend this evening all alone with his favourite teammates he has had butterflies in his stomach because of the excitement and the joy, but at the same time he has also had a mixture of doubt and no, not fear – the eventuality of losing the World Cup Final, that’s what has terrified him! – but more likely worry. Worry for what could happen and for what couldn’t happen at all.

So, what is he supposed to do? Dilemma. Huge Dilemma.

Compared to him, Hamlet is a newbie!

“Hallo? Earth calling Klose? Can you hear me?”

Mesut’s voice takes Miroslav off his thoughts.

He must have kept silent for too long while he was pondering the situation, because once he focuses on the others, he sees Mesut waving his hand in front of him and Thomas, sat by his side, catching a glimpse of him, with concern in the younger striker’s eyes. Manuel is busy whispering something in Philipp’s ear and the captain has a perplexed face, while Lukas and Bastian are exchanging _the look_ – yep, that look that everyone in the team knows, which means that they’re practically reading each other’s mind as they plot something without even really talking. To be honest, Miroslav has always found it adorable, but terribly disquieting, too, sometimes.

Mario doesn’t seem to notice anything, because he’s too busy resuming to violently push the virtual buttons of his iPhone, sat on the bed, with a wide, golden smile plastered on his features. It seems the same smile of all those young teenagers during their very first crush, capable to blind people with its brightness … but it can’t be, can it?

However, there are more urgent matters to fix, such as bothering to answer that poor guy who is still waving his hand, before he ends up breaking it. And calming Thomas down, that’s the main priority.

“Err.. I don’t know.”

Oh, c’mon, really? Pondering after pondering, all that keeping silent and being confused like a fish out of water – and he didn’t pay attention to it, but Miroslav hopes that his mouth remained clamped – and this is the best sentence he managed to come out with?  
Congrats, he may be one of the best football players ever and the new top worldwide goal scorer, but his level of loquacity and his ability of bailing himself out of an iffy situation have definitely collapsed to a dangerous level.  
Great, this is just what Miroslav needed in a moment like this!

And just like a charming knight in shining armour, here he comes, his hero, in order to rescue the pretty lady in trouble.

“Tell me, Miro, all that Krupnik didn’t knock you out already, did it? Because I was wishing for a drunken Klose who acts stupid and talks crap non-stop, not for a drunken Klose who turns as shy as a young, virgin girl!” Thomas declares, punching Miroslav’s shoulder, but his fist is anything but violent, only reassuring and able to dissipate all that tension that he has helped to create.

“Hey, did I miss anything?” Mario gets up from the bed, leaving his precious iPhone on the sheets and finally paying attention to something that is not his six inch luminescent screen.

It’s Manuel who answers his question, since he moved from whispering to Philipp to holding his wrist, caressing it tenderly. “Nothing big, we are still waiting to see if everyone agrees with Mesut and his proposal of playing the ‘Steal the cloth’ game.”

“Oh, well, it’s okay for me. I’m sure that if I’m in your team I won’t risk wearing just my underwear!”

Another buzz from his cell phone. But he’s going to turn it off during the game, right? At least everyone hopes so. Especially Manuel does.

“No way, you’ll end up covering your family jewels with the cards you’re holding!” Bastian jokes around.  Of course, Lukas nods vigorously, totally agreeing with his best friend and partner in crime. “However, Poldi and I are up for that! We could never refuse such a challenge – together we’re invincible!”

There are laughs, followed by high five between the German and the Pole.

“Hey, get off your high horse, you, war survivor!” Manuel addresses to him.

Yeah, as a matter of fact, it seems that the poor Bastian has been more on a war field than on a soccer one. Miroslav can’t help wondering if this is a perfect excuse for Lukas to play the doctor … wait, not _that_ doctor, the sexy one – of course, not! – but the one who takes good care of his patients for real; after all Lukas is always concerned when someone gets hurt during a match, although he doesn’t show it and if said someone happens to be Bastian … well, Miroslav doesn’t mean to say that the player who caused even only a light scratch to the midfielder would better run away and hide in a place in the middle of nowhere, but, on second thought, if the Pole is on the field, said player‘d better watch his back.

“Also Manu and I are ok with that, if it’s not a problem for you, Miro… I mean, no one is forcing anyone, but it could be fun! Well, it wouldn’t be the first time we see you naked, I mean, everyone here knows everyone, you know what I mean. So, well, you know, it wouldn’t be inopportune, but, if you don’t feel like doing that, of course, we’ll just play ‘steal the deck’ normal version. It’s not that someone will be offended by t…”

Philipp’s unsure and shaky speech is promptly interrupted by Manuel’s index that lands on the captain’s mouth.

After so many years, it’s the first time that Miroslav hears Philipp babbling and stuttering with so much insecurity. Even during the most important matches he has always proved to be calm and self-confident, after all a leader can’t allow himself to be nervous in front of his teammates, if he wants to lead them and to gain their respect. And the fact that it’s happening now, in a more than informal situation, is making Miroslav even more nervous and agitated.

“Phips is right. You’re free to decide, but if you want to hear my opinion, we’re just wasting precious time. I don’t think it’s such a big deal after all. Whatever, just have a little more of Raki and then you’ll be drunk enough that you won’t even mind anymore to have a famished male crowd all around you who is just waiting for admiring Klose junior in all its magnificence!”

Those words are said by Mesut with a clear playful tone, but Miroslav snags a bit of challenge inside, as if the Turk was hinting that he doesn’t have the balls to do something that all the others consider a piece of cake, and that’s annoying him pretty much.  
Yeah, that’s true, it’s nothing special, just like Philipp has mentioned before, everyone in that room has already seen everyone naked.  
But if there wasn’t anything beyond that, something that is making this time different from all the others, then Philipp wouldn’t have lost his usual self-confidence and Manuel wouldn’t be busy comforting him like he does after a peppery defeat of the team, when even the captain’s mask of self-control crumbles away.  
And surely Bastian and Lukas wouldn’t be apart, seeing how the situation evolves, trying to innocently play it down, just those two who, out of the field, usually are the heart of a party and the troublemakers par excellence, if they’re together.

Besides, Mesut wouldn’t challenge him with his look, hiding everything behind words told in a casual tone – he’s the kind of person that when he has something to say he just says that clearly and sharply and his previous speech is nothing compared to what he yells when he’s really pissed off –  and Thomas, well, he’s always happy, way too cheerful sometimes, and when he’s not is because he’s furious with himself or with someone, but right now it’s not either of the reasons, simply… it’s not the Thomas who Miroslav is accustomed to and that’s upsetting the older striker a lot.

Buuuuuuuuuuzzzz!

“It’s mine! I swear this is the last one!”

At least Mario is always the same. Maybe he’s still too young and naive to realize that you can cut the air in that room with the blade of a knife. And maybe that’s what Miroslav has to do: he must take that knife and cut, cut, cut until he tears all that unresolved tension to shreds.  
And in order to do that, he apparently needs to tear his mates’ clothes to shreds, first.

“Okay, so what are we waiting for? Let’s start!”

Mesut casts a sardonic smile on Miroslav, snatching the rapscallion deck from his hands – it’s a sort of miracle that after Miroslav held it so impossibly tight it didn’t crumble on the floor- and starting to shuffle the cards.  
In the meantime, Lukas notices that there’s some Krupnik left and pours glasses for everyone, while Bastian uses his brute force to drag Mario away from his mobile, muttering something like ‘You’re going to see your boyfriend again tomorrow, so stop acting like a clingy doggy in heat!’

Miroslav doesn’t have the time to analyze that sentence better – although he already has his theory about it – because he finds himself trapped in Philipp’s sudden embrace, while he’s murmuring a ‘Thank you!’ in his ear, but before he can question him, the younger is already sitting on the floor, beside Manuel who winks at the Pole, in order to thank him, too, his way.

Other questions and other doubts are about to arise, but before Miroslav can inspect them he feels Thomas’s arm wrapping around his shoulders. He doesn’t utter a word; he just confines himself to smiling and looking at the older, deep in his eyes. And only a few minutes before Miroslav would have needed another of the younger’s witty comments to be reassured – he’s still wondering about what, but he’s about to find it out – right now the heat of his skin and the light strength in the grip that is wrapping him is enough.

“Are you ready?” Thomas asks him.

“I’m ready.” He asserts.

While everyone moves close to their team partner, Mesut starts to arrange the cards.  
And it’s only a matter of time before everyone lays all their cards on the table; in every sense of the word.

“Okay, newbie, before we start for real, turn that damn thing off!” Manuel summons Mario.

“Nope, quite the contrary, he’s asking me if I can make a video call, so he can help us, you know, he’s quite good in card games!” the younger suggests.

“No bloody way!” Manuel strikes back, snatching the mobile from him like he would do with the balloon when it’s between the adversary’s feet. He keep his iron grip on it, raising his arm as much as he can, while the poor Mario keeps jumping, trying to take it back uselessly.

“Miroslav, you have such an amazing elevation, so…” the young attacker hazards.

“I used to have it! However, my answer is no, it’s a matter between you and Manu, deal with it!” The older states.

“Manu, you can’t stay like that all night long, you risk to ossify your arm!” Lukas warns him, with his usual attentive care.

“He’s right, think about all the funnier things you could use that arm for!” Mesut states with a sly grin.

“You’re right, guys, I’d better hide this thing in safer places!” Manuel decides, undoing his jeans and pulling the band of his boxer a little bit.

“Hey, you, coxcomb, don’t you think that that’s going to stop me from getting my iPhone back!” Mario chuckles, ready to approach him in a threatening way.

“Uhh, way to go, my boy! That’s the spirit of the game!” Bastian incites him.

Manuel stops himself, before completing his plan and he pulls the zip up again.

“Okay, you can have it back, but let’s find a deal. I want you to be concentrated on the game, just like you are concentrated on the field. If you had the damn mobile with you, no fucking way would you have scored for us!” The goalkeeper retorts.

“That’s right, just because I ‘fucking scored’” The younger mocks him. “This is my prize!” He finishes, putting his clutches again on that jewel of technology.

“See? You got it back. Now, be a good boy and turn it off so you can be concentrated.” Manuel tries again, with a more patient tone.

“If you want me to be concentrated, you must let me keep it switched on!” Mario strikes back, becoming paler just at the thought of switching his mobile off. “I promise that I’ll check it only every five minutes.” He assures.

“You meant to say ‘every twenty minutes’, I wish!” Manuel corrects him.

“Every seven minutes!” Mario revamps.

“Every fifteen!”

“Nope, every eight!”

“Every ten minutes, without buzz. It’s my last offer. And you can’t reply to the text messages until we’re done with the game. Take or leave it!” Manuel establishes and the expression on his face doesn’t allow any protests.

“Deal!” The younger gives in, shaking his hand in agreement, but then he makes the mistake of looking at his display immediately after.

The others could swear they heard Manuel growl and it’s not an alcohol hallucination.

“Well, I meant ten minutes from now!” Mario assures, pushing his mobile under the bed.

“It’s better for you if you obey. When Manuel has that look it means nothing good!” Philipp informs him and he can state that from personal experience.

“Okay, I guess that we can start for real now.” Miroslav states, fiercely, although he has to admit that that gag amused him.

It’s enough to throw a coin to establish which team will start and then continue on clockwise.

The lucky ones are Manuel and Mario. The latter, noticing that they can collect the five and the four with the nine they’re holding, takes immediately advantage of it.

“It’s a nice move, isn’t it? See? I’m concentrated!” He looks for his team partner’s approval and the older just nods.

Lukas and Bastian go on, getting rid of the two and the three left on the deal with the six they’re holding.

“Do we win anything if we wipe the deal out?” Bastian wonders.

Miroslav smiles and shakes his head negatively.

“Nope, but there’s another Italian game where you win if you do that. I’ll explain it to you another time.”

It’s Mesut and Thomas’ turn and the first one who decides to put down a card of five and then Philipp takes it, with the same card they were holding.

“Well done!” The most expert of the game congratulates.

The turns start again, until they all finish the three cards they were holding and so far no team has stolen the deck of another one yet.

“Hey, Lukas, think about it, if we were in the same team, we could talk about our strategies in Polish and no one would have understood us.” Miroslav asserts, winking at the other Pole while, just by the rules, they go counter-clockwise to arrange the new cards again.

Lukas nods, excited. “Dammit! I should have thought about it before. Now it’s too late to change the teams, isn’t it?” He hazards.

It would have been better if he had kept silent.

Bastian sees that as a personal outrage and stares at both interlocutors as if they had stabbed him in the back, especially the one who sits next to him.

“That’s not fair! You two must stop with this damn secrecy!” He snaps, insulted.

“But… Basti! We didn’t say even a single word in Polish!” Lukas makes him notice, puzzled.

“I don’t care, you could do it if you wanted and I don’t like it! What’s all this mystery? What are you two, Russian spies?”

“Well, maybe Polish spies!” Miro points out, making Lukas smile.

But Bastian isn’t smiling at all.

“Damn you, Miro, you shouldn’t have spread discord between The Fox and The Hound! Bad boy!” Thomas pretends to scold him, clicking his tongue in sign of disapproval.

“Don’t call us that!” Bastian roars to him, annoyed.

“Well, you must recognize that it’s definitely better than Bianca and Bernard!” Lukas states.

“I’m not talking with you, traitor!” Bastian crosses his arms against his chest, sulking.

“I got it, I know your evil plan, you, smooth operator: you want to destroy the harmony in the other teams!” Manuel points an accusing index against Miroslav. “But you’re not going to get us, am I right, Mario?”

Silence.

“Mario?!”

The goalkeeper turns in time to catch Mario red-handed, while he’s checking his mobile under the bed.

“Hey, it’s not ten minutes yet!” He reproaches the younger.

“Really? I thought it was!” Mario shrugs, taking his place on the floor, woeful.

“It’s not my fault, I didn’t invent iPhones for sure!” Miroslav defends, raising his arms innocently.

“Okay, now everyone gets ready. Second hand is about to start!” Philipp disciplines the others, arranging the cards.

“About you, Thomas, less jokes and more concentration, we’re the only ones who didn’t take a card from the deal yet!” Mesut reprimands him.  
Thomas shrugs in a cocky way.

“It’s only the beginning, besides, as the saying goes… you know, unlucky at cards, lucky in love!” He winks cheerfully at his team partner. And probably not only one in the team.

It’s useless to say that Miroslav feels the umpteenth pang in his stomach, but he prefers concentrating on the game than on his gut.

Manuel puts a card on deal and so does Bastian, but without consulting Lukas first and the young Pole is upset by that.

This time, with the card that they’re holding, Mesut manages to pick both cards on the deal.

“See? That’s the way you gotta play!” He lectures Thomas, showing him the deck.

“I would have done the same move.” The German grumbles.

Miroslav doesn’t have any choice but putting a card on the deal.

“Stop everyone! I can’t face another turn like that!” Lukas interrupts the game. “Basti, c’mon, stop acting so insulted! I promise that we’ll create a coded language, just for us, to communicate to each other!”

Happiness is back on the midfielder’s features, while he’s showing his best friend his warmest smile.

“Really? That’s so cool!” He hugs him, joyful.

“Now we can resume playing!” The young Pole asserts, smiling satisfied.

Mario puts a card on the deal.

“Did I do the right thing, uh? It’s the inferior card, so if there’s the right amount, when it’s our turn again I can pick it again with this superior card!” He asks for his partners’ confirmation.

“I guess you’ve just replied to yourself!” Manuel barks sharply.

“But… I was just proving to you that I’m concentrated and I’m trying my best here…” The younger groans.

“I swear that I almost preferred when you were drooling on your mobile!” The older rolls his eyes.

“Hey! I wasn’t drooling on anything!” The younger points out, scandalized.

“Nope, but you would if everyone-knows-who decided to send you a documented dossier of his hot area!” Thomas has a dig at him, merciless.

Mario almost throws in air the cards on the deal.

“Thom! Shut the fuck up and stay focused!” Mesut scolds him.

“Let’s hope no one is picking that card, so we can take it on our turn!” Philipp whispers in Miroslav’s ear, while he stares at the six on the deal.

“Actually, you should wish for someone to pick it!” The older replies in the same way.

“But… why? Oh, wait, I got it!” The other realizes on his own.

“Hey, you two, stop confabbing!” Thomas reproaches them, but truth is that he’s envious of the complicity that Miroslav seems to have with Philipp.

It’s Bastian’s turn, which in perfect harmony with Lukas picks the other card, leaving that six immaculate.

“So are we really going to have our secret language?” The German asks for confirmation again.

“Yep, we are and it will be incomprehensible!” The Pole assures, adding those cards to their deck.

“Can’t wait to invent it!” The other rubs his hands, impatiently.

“Excuse me, I was sure that you two already had your secret language and it depended on the numbers of the hearts in your eyes whenever you stare at each other!” Thomas can’t help making his witty remark.

The two best friends blush instantly, amongst the general laughter.

“Okay, now let me play, otherwise Mr. Stay-focused will annoy the hell out of me!” He snorts, observing the card on the deal which is the same as one they’re holding.

Mesut seems to notice a glint in Miroslav’s and Philipp’s looks, while Thomas is about to pick that lonely card.

“Nooo, Thom, put down the other one, the other one!” The Turk alarms but it’s too late.

“What? Did alcohol make you blind? We have the same card, it’s stupid not to pick it!” The German grumbles, proud of his move.

“I guess it was more stupid to pick it!” Philipp smirks, showing them the same card they’re holding.

“You fell in our trap!” Miroslav says, taking their deck. “Steal the cloth!” He sneers, staring at his ‘victims’.

“Congrats, Thomas, you’ve just bought it like a goofball!” Mesut snaps, glaring at the guilty.

 It’s a secret joy to Miroslav to see them in such discordance.

Thomas snorts bored and shrugs as if nothing happened.

“Well, someone just had to start it, besides, it’s getting pretty hot here and I just feel like undress myself a little!” He says, waving his hands in front of his face.

“Yeaaaahh, yeeaaah, yeaah, get rid of your clothes, yuuuu-uuuhh!” Mario rejoices, raising both of his arms.

“No more alcohol for you tonight, kid!” Manuel states, since he’s developing a sort of paternal instinct towards him.

“I don’t want to undress myself, I just wanna win! As a matter of fact, I guess I’ll wear my jacket again!” Mesut protests, while he’s about to reach one of the beds.

“Stop there, Mesut!” Philipp makes him sit again. “Rules are rules.” He declares and then he glances at his team partner. “Your choice, Miro, what do they have to take off?”  
   
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another evil cliff-hanger, we know ;P ;P  
> Well, I hope you’re liking it anyway and are having as much fun as we’re having ;)  
> please, let us know, even a single word can make our day :)  
> Let’s see the next chapter where hopefully STUFF is going to happen ;P
> 
> p.s. I have the tendecy of writing pretty much, plese, tell me if you prefer shorter chapters :/


	4. IV: Poker face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game is on, some unmentionable secrets are revealed and… it’s time for some nakedness!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess that you can post certain things only at deep night, so …  
> Hello,  
> first of all,  
> huge apologizes for leaving this story in stand-by for so, so long; but I was supposed to wait for my friend Vale to be free from Uni duties… before – last week - she told me she hardly would be free these months :(  
> Poor dear :’(  
> So, I’m on my own again, like in the first chapters… so I apologise, because this fic would be at least ten times better with Vale’s skills …  
> I’ve tried my best hope you’ll like it anyway. Besides, sorry if the chapter is too long.
> 
> Thanks for kudos, comments, bookmarks, subscriptions, they mean a lot <3
> 
> p.s. I’m sure that with a ‘tiny’ effort you’ll be able to notice again my shameless inclination towards Miro/Thom moments ;P
> 
> Huge thanks to: Peter, a wonderful beta, a even more wonderful writer ^^

 

  
_I wanna roll with him a hard pair we will be_  
A little gambling is fun when you're with me, I love it  
Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun  
And baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun, fun 

_Oh, oh, oh_  
I'll get him hot, show him what I've got  
Oh, oh, oh  
I'll get him hot, show him what I've got 

_Can't read my, can't read my_  
No he can't read my poker face  
 _[Lady Gaga, ‘Poker face’]_  


   
“Your choice, Miro, what do they have to take off?”  
Miroslav couldn’t ask for a better question.  
Because that question leads to command. Not even when, back to 2008, he had been the Captain of Die Mannschaft – replacing Ballack –, he had felt so powerful.  
And his teammates are waiting eagerly for his answer. It’s important; it can make the night take the right turn... or even the wrong one.  
Yeah, of course, everyone is on their way to end up as naked as newborn babies, but even the sequence with that happens has its importance.

Besides, Miroslav is not dealing with any pairing; it’s the one that contains the most precious one: Thomas.  
The young striker is staring at him, with his amused smirk and his oh-so-carefree attitude that makes him so irresistible that Miroslav actually almost forgets the other six people in the room.  
If it was up to him, right then there would be only he and Thomas, busy doing an amount of not so chaste things.  
But it’s all about everyone of them, it’s not that Miroslav doesn’t care about the others, he does and during that night he wants to have a taste of all them – literally or not –;  it’s just that Thomas has that _je ne sais quoi_ that drives him crazy.  
But he can’t show it, no one must figure out his deepest feelings, he has to hide them behind a mask of nonchalance.  
That’s why he wants to deal with Thomas in the best possible way.  
And he knows how to do that.

“Phips, what about a further rule?” he decides to speak again.  
“Shoot, I’m all ears!” The Captain grins.  
“The losing team doesn’t have to take the same garments off if the winner decides so.” He asserts.  
“Sounds even funnier this way!” Philipp approves and so do all the others.

“More choice!” Manu grins.  
“It’s a way to see more stuff faster!” Bastian cheers.  
“Can’t wait to use this rule against two of you!” Lukas states.

“Yeah, okay, it’s wonderful, but it’s time to take some clothes off! C’mon guys! Yuu uhh!”  Mario points out.  
“Manuu! You were supposed to keep the baby far from further alcohol!” Thomas reproaches his friend.  
“And I did!” Manu retorts, trying to keep Mario quiet.  
   
“Well, we’re ready to pay for our defeat, just tell us what to take off, Miro!” Mesut spurs him, sort of annoyed.  
He just hates losing, even if it’s not the whole game yet.

 “So, Mesut, show to the entire crowd here your fabulous abs!” He spurs the Turk, which is pretty used to walk around shirtless, even on the field, after a match.  
That’s why he obeys, without any effort.  
Instead, Thomas has more inner troubles than he wants to display.  
He curses himself if his own abs is not that fabulous and it’s not that he doesn’t work out, he attends gym, too, but nothing seems to change.  
He casts an envious look to Mesut, while he takes off his T-shirt. Envious for the way Miro is looking at the Turk.  
Why can’t he be as muscular as well?  
Obviously, the young striker does his best to hide all his considerations behind a disguise of pretended amusement.

“Now it’s your turn, Thommy boy!”  
Miro’s voice takes Thomas back to the crucial moment.  
“Yes?”  
“Your turn. But I prefer you to take off your shorts; I love your tiny, skinny legs so much and want to see them in all their glory!” The oldest smirks.  
“Uh? Sure. Right now!” He abides, trying to rip his Bermuda shorts off, but then he reminds to himself that he is not a professional stripper, so he takes them off in the most usual way.

Truth must be told. It’s not that he feels nervous for the game, quite the contrary, he’s loving it to bits.  
What really astonished Thomas is what Miroslav has just said, he really can’t come to terms with the fact that Miro has mentioned the verb ‘love’ and something related to him in the same sentence.  
Probably the worryingly elevated alcohol level in his system is playing tricks to him.

Miroslav contemplates the loot of his winning, clearly satisfied. Philipp seems pleased, too; but the Pole is beyond that.  
He watches those skinny legs moving – because Thomas rarely can keep still, even when he sits down – , while he fantasies about caressing them down their whole length, nibbling them softly, tracing them with kisses, from the tiny ankle to the last inch of his inner thigh, right before his inguinal bones.  
Well, it’s not that Mesut’s chest doesn’t suggest him hot stuff to do, but, oh, Gosh, Thomas’s legs!

“Well done, guys, let’s get ready for next turn!” Lukas states, shuffling the cards, before distributing them.  
It’s Mario making the first move and he picks from the deal the amount of the card of eight he’s holding.  
He smiles at Manuel, searching for his approval that he finds, but that doesn’t last for long.

Grinning, Lukas shows their card of eight and swoops towards Manuel and Mario’s deck like an hawk with an unlucky prey.  
“Steal the cloth!” Bastian sneers.”Well done, honey!” He whispers to Lukas.  
“Oh, no!” Mario almost cries, desperate.  
“I know, pup, but shit happens. C’mon, it’s not the end of the world!” Manuel shrugs.  
“Hell yeah, it is, I wasn’t supposed to lose with you!” The youngest retorts.  
“Hey! It’s not that I made you sign a written declaration that guaranteed that we wouldn’t lose even a hand of this game.” The goalkeeper defends. “Plus, you made the move, blame yourself, I would have chosen a different card to play!”  
“Well, you could have told me!” Mario whines.

“Hey, Mario, let me see if I got it straight: you crave to see naked bodies, but you’re reluctant to take your clothes off?” Miro recaps.  
“Damn right. I’d like to see all your clothes scattered on the floor, but possibly without taking even my watch off!” Mario reveals. “You guys... scare me!”  
“But, Mario, think about it, we all see each other naked or almost naked countless times before or after a match...” Philipp tries to reason with him.  
“I know, but it’s different. Everything feels different tonight. And I’m feeling uncomfortable.” Mario grumbles.

“C’mon, Mario, we’re going to make you take off only your shoes at this hand. Or do you consider even it way too indecent?” Bastian asks him, half serious, half mocking.  
“Really?” Mario stares at him with gratitude.  
“Of course, not! C’mon, dandy, less whines and more strip-tease! Take off your shorts!” Bastian spurs him with an evil laughter.

“About you, sexy giant, take off your shirt! And you’d better not have an undershirt beneath it!” Lukas commands.  
“Well, I really hope you do have it!” Philipp protests, not very happy about the prospective of his boyfriend displaying his awesome upper body to such hungry eyes.  
“Ah-ah, Phips, don’t even try. We already had the ‘no jealousy’ speech. Tonight is made to share!” Manuel reproaches him, taking off his shirt, without having any garment under it.

Mario is still struggling with himself, but finally manages to take his shorts off, grabbing his iPhone the second after.  
“Mario!” Manuel reproaches him.  
“I don’t care if it’s not ten minutes yet. He must know about my discomfort!” He babbles, tapping frantically on his display.  
The answer arrives almost instantly.

‘C’mon, Sunny, you can do that, nothing too shameful. But you’d better not lose any hand from now on! xx M’

Mario smiles with relief, letting his iPhone slide under the bed.

“Can we resume playing now?” Miroslav politely asks and the others nod.  
“Good!” Philipp giggles, showing to Basti and Lukas a card of eight, with a devilish grin.  
“Steal the cloth!” He declares.

“Well done, Captain. It’s your choice what to take them off.” Miroslav nods.  
“Let’s see... Basti, get rid of your T-shirt; Luks, show the crowd what pattern your boxers have!” Philipp orders.  
The two obey, but Lukas’ boxers pattern reveals to be only a bland white with black horizontal stripes, made by Adidas.

“Is it our turn, right?” Mesut asks, eagerly, without even waiting for an answer.  
“Can I do that?” Thomas pleads with him, eagerly as well.  
“Let’s do it together!” The Turk finds a compromise and grinning madly they both draw out another, fundamental card of eight.

“Steal the cloth!” They yell in unison.  
“Geez, how many eights are there in this deck?” Manuel frowns.  
“Just the four ones every proper deck is supposed to have.” Miroslav sighs, waiting for their move.  
“Shirt off, Captain!” Mesut requires.  
“Trousers off, Opa!” Thomas challenges the oldest and said garments reach the floor.

“Isn’t it weird that no one actually chose to take off shoes or... I don’t know... necklaces, bracelets?” Miroslav comments.  
“It’s not weird, it’s just wise!” Bastian strikes back.  
“Actually, I’d like someone to take off your shoes.” Lukas whispers to his ear.  
“Really?” The German smirks.  
“Yeah. See? It wouldn’t be so bad if we had played in different teams. I could have undressed you as I pleased...” The Pole winks at him.  
   
“C’mon, let’s play again!” Thomas incites everyone.  
“Also because there’s no way someone can pick another card of eight. We’re safe for now!” Mesut asserts, satisfied.

Nothing big happens in that turn, but in the next one, Miro and Philipp manage to steal the deck to Bastian and Lukas once again.

“C’mon, guys, choose Basti’s shoes, he has the sexiest feet ever!” Lukas pleads, while he’s been asked to take off his T-shirt.  
“Okay, let’s see these sexy feet!” Miroslav gives in and Bastian gets rid of his shoes, proving that he has nice feet for real.  
“See? Told you so! Basti has beautiful feet, so neat!” Lukas beams, admiring them, before too much info slips from his mouth. “Once he even allowed me to put nail polish on them!”

“Lukas! That was supposed to be a secret!” The midfielder reproaches his boyfriend, before feeling the need to point out something very important, to every of his listeners. “However, it was black nail polish, very manly!”  
“Sure, no doubt about it!” Thomas chuckles, with his most sarcastic attitude.

“Well, if once Poldi allowed Basti to shampoo him, no wonder if he’s almost bald!” Manuel has a dig at him.  
 “Leave Poldi alone, he has awesome hair!” Bastian defends his mate, glaring at the goalkeeper.  
“I shave them, it’s my choice!” Lukas points out, pretty quick-tempered about that topic.

“Well, If I were you, Manu, I wouldn’t talk much.” Mesut warns him and Manuel seems to realize the danger, but it’s too late. “Have you forgotten when I saw you and Phips making a potpourri?” The Turk bursts out laughing.  
“Mesut! You had promised!” Philipp jolts, pissed off.

“It wasn’t a potpourri, it was a floral arrangement!” The goalkeeper rushes to clarify, but probably he just makes things worse.  
At least, according to Philipp’s bothered reaction.  
“For God’s sake, Manu, shut the fuck up!” He rubs his hand against his face, frustrated.

“What? Accessories are not the same; I would never want a potpourri in my room!” Manuel justifies.  
“Sure, because floral arrangement is so more mainly … more or less than black nail polish!” Thomas laughs like crazy, earning the furious glares from both Manuel and Bastian.

But Philipp has an ace up his sleeve – oh well, he doesn’t wear sleeves anymore but… whatever!

“Do I have to mention your full body wax, Mesut?” He sneers.  
Mesut turns pale instantly, surrounded by all the others’ giggles.

“But… how did you know?” He babbles, shocked.  
“I’m the Captain, I always know everything about everyone!” Philipp brags, acting very self-confidant.  
Mesut glares at Thomas, figuring everything out.  
“You, bloody telltale!” Ha barks at him.  
“Hey don’t look at me, I didn’t tell anyone!” The younger defends. “But he cried like a little girl whenever I pulled a strip off!” He informs everyone, devilishly, recalling that funny day.

Everyone is still busy laughing at their friend, while Miroslav slides closer to Thomas.  
“What about you, Müllie? Do you have a scabrous secret?”  
Thomas shakes his head.  
“Nope. And you?”  
The Pole mirrors his actions.  
The younger challenges him both with his look and his words.  
 “Fine, so we could find one to have together!” He winks at the oldest.  
There’s a moment of tense silence, but Mario breaks it.  
   
“Sometimes Marco and I do crosswords before falling asleep, when we are roommates.” He says.  
“You are _always_ roommates!” Mesut points out, a bit annoyed.  
Mario grieves.  
“Not this time!” He sighs, earning an encouraging pat on the shoulder from Manuel.

“However, Mario, what was the point revealing that? It’s not an embarrassing secret. It’s not even any sort of secret!” Bastian observes, rolling his eyes.  
“Well I know… but I have none and wanted to participate anyway…” The youngest mutters, pouting.  
The others nod, but practically no one in that room believes that Mario doesn’t have any indecent, scabrous secret to confess.

Miroslav chuckles, because he’s deeply amused by all those involuntary comedy sketches.  
“I love you guys.” He says, beaming.  
“What do you mean with ‘I love you?’” Philipp asks him, a bit puzzled.  
Once again, Thomas can’t believe his ears, while he impatiently waits for Miro’s answer.  
“I mean it in every sense of the word. But probably now it’s alcohol speaking for me.” The Pole slurs, shrugging. “Let’s go on with the game.” He suggests.

“We actually couldn’t wait for that.” Mesut grins. “Manu, Mario, cry!” He turns to them. “Steal the cloth!” He says, stealing their deck.  
“No, please, not again!” Mario babbles, desperate.  
“Hell yeah, once more!” Thomas sneers. “Oh, c’mon, Mario, take off your shirt, it will be like hanging around on a beach!”  
“I can do it, I can do it…” Mario incites himself, obeying.

“Let me guess, you want my trousers to disappear, right?” Manuel figures out, already unzipping them.  
“Nice guess, hottie!” Mesut winks at him.

“Okay, we finished even this turn.” Miroslav says. “Now, what about taking a little break? There’s something I’d like to ask you…”  
“Save your curiosity for later, now there are still too many bodies that I want to see naked!” Manuel strikes back, already shuffling the cards.  
“Yeah, including yours!” Bastian teases the goalkeeper.  
“We’ll see!” Manuel sneers, distributing the cards.

Despite their start, as the turns go on, Mesut and Thomas prove to be the best players, because no one steals their deck anymore.  
Actually, they have just found the way to steal Philipp’s and Miro’s deck again.  
Thomas is beyond thrilled.

Mesut asks for the Captan’s shirt, while Thomas aims at something different.  
“Your shirt can wait next turn, Miro. Now I want you to get rid of your boxers!” He demands.  
“Rules are rules!” Miroslav shrugs, taking off his underwear without making much fuss.  
Something tells him that he won’t remain the only one for long.  
Besides, his cock seems to like being the centre of everyone’s attention.

Next turn reveals to be the funniest one, because, as a sort of common conspiracy, all the other teams attack Mesut and Thomas’ decks, repeatedly, until after taking off even shoes and accessories, they’re the first ones to remain as naked as babies.

The second pairing to lose the game is Basti and Lukas, while, surprisingly, Manuel keeps his promise and manage to deprive Miroslav and Philipp of all their clothes.

“Did you see, pup? We won!” He smiles at an extremely relieved Mario, who still wears his boxers, proudly.

“It’s just that now I feel excluded this way!” The goalkeeper admits, before taking off his boxers, as well, with all the others’ full approval.

“Now it’s definitely better!” Manuel states, satisfied.  
“Don’t even try, Manu, I’m not going to follow your example!” Mario lively protests.  
“Oh, please, let’s leave the baby alone. He must be comprehended.” Thomas asserts. “He needs a special treatment. I guess it’s better if he doesn’t do certain stuff, he’s still so young …”  
“Hey, wait, it’s not that Thomas is so much older than me!” Mario turns to the others, pointing at him.  
“Well, whelp, I’m about to turn twenty-five old; which gives me the right to get a ticket for Fun-Land. You’ll watch the show from behind the gates!” Thomas strikes back, teasing the youngest.  
“Mario, I guess Thom is right, you may feel even less comfortable than now if you take this game further.” Miroslav advices him.  
“Well, yes, I guess you’re right.” Mario agrees, grabbing his iPhone. “You know what? I’m going to film you, in order to have a memory of this night. After all, my eyes are not too innocent for that!” He decides.

“Mario, if something happens and such film ends up published on the web, I’ll assure myself that you won’t ever see your twenty-third dawn!” Bastian threatens him.  
“Oh, c’mon, Basti, be kind to him, I’m sure he won’t do any damage. He’s just curios. Everyone of us was when we were his same age!” Manuel asserts, smiling at the young striker.

“Miro, that was such a funny game, we must do it again, sometime!” Lukas congrats.

“We’ll see. Now it’s time to satisfy my curiosity.” Miro replies. “It’s beyond obvious that all of you, taken by pairs, are more than simple friends. Don’t tell me I’m right, because I already know I am. All I want to know is… how? How did everything start? And when?”

The others exchange a look and then Bastian decides to talk.  
“Well, it all began years ago. The first couple was Luks and me.”  
“Believe me or not, but I’m not that surprised hearing that.” Miroslav chuckles.

“Then, when I joined the team, one day I caught them as they were in a way too intimate attitude, so I forced them to confess…” Thomas keeps the tale. “And when they told me the truth I was jealous more than anything else! Not exactly of Lukas, or Bastian, or both; I was jealous of such a bond, I craved one like that, too.”  
“That’s why one day he came to talk to me,” Manuel goes on. “Not only I told him that I already knew about Basti and Luks, but that I already had an affair with Philipp.”  
“Back to those days it was just an affair, then it became something much more important.” Philipp reveals, winking at his boyfriend.

“I’m not the type of guy who likes bonds or established relationship.” Mesut confesses. “I like considering myself a sort of jolly in this team. I’ve been in many beds, even in the bed of someone who is not here with us, tonight.” He goes on. “The point is, I fit well in beds, especially in Thom’s!” He giggles, giving a peck to the German striker.

Miroslav finds his suspects confirmed, but although he can feel his blood boil, he hides everything behind a mask of indifference.

“The point is that, during all those years, every of us had their ugly moments or fights… and you know, fights and betrayals go hand in hand when you seek revenge or just some comfort…” Philipp adds.  
“What Phips is trying to say is that during those temporary fights… we happened to sleep with occasional partners, so, practically, everyone got laid with each of us, at least once.” Bastian makes the ultimate confession.

“Wow! It’s much more than I dared to guess…” Miroslav mumbles. “So what about Mario?”  
“Oh, he’s a sort of mascot for us, sometimes he likes some cuddling or attentions, some human touch, let’s say.” Lukas reveals, hugging Mario.  
“But he does the important stuff only with someone else who’s not here.” Manuel adds.

“Yeah, with Marco, right?” Miro anticipates him.  
Mario almost passes out.  
“Oh m-my god! H-how di-did you know?” He stutters, shocked.  
“Oh, please, the T-shirt you showed to the cameras. It was more than evident!” Miro chuckles. “But you’re right, he won that Cup with us, as well, he earned it.”  
Mario smiles thankfully at him, nodding.  
“And, believe me, Miro, Marco would have give his right arm to be here with us, tonight. I’m filming this, for him, too. Can’t wait to show him that!” Mario beams.

“Miro, if you don’t mind, now we’d like to ask _you_ something.” Philipp speaks for all the others.  
“Sure. Shoot!” The oldest spurs him.  
“Well, when you accepted our invitation, tonight, deep inside you knew it would be so much more than a simple victory party, am I right?”  
Miroslav nods, allowing him to go on.

“And yet you are here. Even naked, like us. So you must feel attracted by us, somewhat. Could you explain the reasons?” The Captain finally managed to ask.  
Miroslav gets up.

“Well, to begin with, you and Luks and Basti have been in the team for longer than the others, so I’ve spent more time with you, but apart from that, you, Phips, are so cute and petite that I’d like to cuddle you as a teddy bear all time long… and not only cuddle.” He says, with a sexy innuendo, ruffling his hair, before moving to his next target, sitting between them.

“Basti, you’re the kind of guy with whom I’d like to go out for a drink or two in a pub… hoping that the night would end up in one of the two’s bed!” He reveals, caressing his face. “And you, Luks, well... you makes me recall home!” He smiles at the younger Pole, squeezing his hand.  
He walks towards Manuel.

“You, Manu, oh, you give such a sense of protection.” He confesses and hugs him tight, before glancing at Mario.

“And you, kid, well… you made it happen!” He winks at him. “But, you know… you’re way too young for me to have towards you any feel that is not only pride and the certainty that you’ll make great things in your career.” He says and the youngest grins, electrified.

Miroslav reaches also the last couple.  
“About you, Mesut…” He murmurs, tracing his abs with a finger. “You must taste exotic!”  
“You’re damn right!” The Turk winks at him, but Miroslav is already glancing at someone else, someone who he has preferred to save for last, because he’s definitely the most important.

“What about me?” Thomas urges him, leaning closer.  
Miroslav kneels in front of him.  
There’s no more need to pretend, it’s time to take off the mask.  
“You know, Thomas, in you I see again the young me. And I like that, so, so much.” He declares, staring at those blue eyes, even bluer after such a revelation.  
Thomas doesn’t know what to say or do so he resorts to his best weapon: the witty remarks.

“Well, Miro, you say I’m that important to you, and yet you have never dedicated a goal to me!” He pretends to act insulted.  
Miroslav burst out laughing.  
“Oh, please! You can score on your own and dedicate the goals to yourself!” He punches his shoulder, playfully.

Suddenly, Manuel, Mesut, Bastian, Mario, Lukas and Philipp almost feel like intruders.

“Plus, let’s not forget that you even snapped at me, after a couple of wrong assists to you in front of the goal post!” The Pole recalls.  
“Huh? Did I really do that?” The young German wonders with his most innocent attitude.  
“Yep, you did. But I forgive you, only because you have my same thirst for goals. I can read it in your eyes.” The oldest smiles at him.  
Thomas brings his arm on his shoulder.  
“Really? And what else can you read?” He murmurs, caressing his neck.  
“Passion. A lot of passion. For football.”  
Thomas skims Miro’s lips and then he brings his mouth to his ear.  
“Are you sure it’s only for football?” He purrs.

It’s just too much. Miroslav can’t hold a second longer and smashes his mouth to Thomas’.  
It’s nothing like a first kiss should be, it’s not shy, nor hesitant. It’s passionate, as passionate as the way Thomas kisses Miroslav back.  
The room seems to disappear. They can hear some bustle from afar, but they don’t pay attention.  
When they part from each other, they both have swollen and a bit aching lips.  
   
“Alright! About time someone put some spice into this night!” Manuel cheers.  
“Miro, I’m so happy you gave the first kiss of the night just to me.” Thomas murmurs. “I mean, it’s evident that everyone here wants something sexual with you. But for me it’s more than sexual. It has always been.” He goes on, blushing a little. “And I blame and thank at the same time all the alcohol that’s running in my veins right now if I found the courage to admit it...”

Miroslav keeps silent, staring at him, bewildered.

 “But if you don’t say anything I’m going to feel like the most pathetic fool on this bloody planet!” Thomas babbles, awkwardly.

Miro kisses him again. This time is a shorter kiss, but also a more tender, slower and sweeter one.  
In that kiss there’s the answer.

“Okay, guys.” Miroslav turns to the others. “I’ve always been known for being the most serious one, the calmest one. But not tonight. This night is wild and I’m going to act wild, you’re going, as well.” He says, getting all the cheers of approval from everyone.  
“Plus, we are already naked, we just have to take advantage of that!” He chuckles. “But to get to me, first you have to make stuff among you, guys!” He spurs them  
Bastian and Lukas, just like Manuel and Philipp, have already started to kiss each other.  
Thomas is still too thrilled for what happened before, while Mesut is jealous. He still doesn’t know if it’s for Miroslav’s attention towards Thomas or for Thomas’ interest towards Miro. Maybe for both reasons.  
About Mario, well, he’s just filming everything.

“No guys!” Miroslav stops everyone. “I don’t mean the usual pairings, it would be too easy. First , you have already told me that for one reason or another, everyone has been in everyone’s bed, at least once. Second, the most important thing: this night is made to break any rule, to transgress, there will be no sentimental consequences and doing that will only prove it once more. So be free, act wild and… amaze me!”

Thomas addresses to the Pole.                                         
“Me, too?”  
Miroslav sneers.  
“Especially you. C’mon, Müllie, show me what you can do!”  
   
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still wondering how words like ‘nail polish’ , ‘potpourri’ and ‘full body wax’ ended in this chapter… well, crazy minds write crazy things.  
> So, what do you think? Is it acceptable even if I can’t count on the dear (and amazing!) Vale’s anymore?
> 
> I confess that I’m terrified by writing next part… rating will inevitably become explicit… oh, god, I ended up in huge trouble XD
> 
> Well, I hope Miro doesn’t sound too OOC (oh well, I guess everyone sound a bit OOC here ) , but I have this theory about when the calmest lose their inhibitions they become the wildest, ever! ;)
> 
> Well, kudos and comments (of every kind, even criticism) are love, so, if I don’t ask you too much, show me some love ^^
> 
> if you still care about this story, pleeeease, drop me a line, even a word can make my day :/
> 
> About next update, for once I’ll let you decide, just tell me, what do you prefer to read first, ‘Too Soon’ or ‘Not very (n)ice!’ ? :)


	5. V: A show for the crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get hotter, kinkier and dirtier… between jealousy and a phone call…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo,  
> thank you all so so much for comments, kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks ;) , you’re sooo kind, but… I’m not so sure you’ll still want to give me kudos, bookmarks or remain subscribed… after this, lol XD  
> before reading, let me apologize for the shameful late (I had huge trouble writing this stuff, let’s just say it’s NOT my natural habitat, lol, but this fic needed also that );  
> let me apologize for the clearly PWP stuff in that and also for the stupidity and fluffy fluff I managed to put inside;  
> let me sincerely apologize with Lukas, Basti, Phips, Mesut, Manu, Thomas and mostly Miro!  
> Let me apologize for the whole basic idea of this fic, too.  
> *runs away*  
> (Beta's Note: Sorry to interrupt here, but I really don't get why she's apologizing this much. I've been telling her that her stories are amazing, but I'll let you as the reader judge for yourself...)  
> (Author’s note: You’re just too kind, but, really, apologizing +thanking is my raison d'être, lol ;P )
> 
> Beta: Thanks to the amazing Peter_Ambos , go reading his wonderful stuff ^^

 

  
_So won’t you touch me?_   
_‘Cause everyone is watching us now_   
_We’re putting on a show for the crowd_   
_So turn it up, baby, and make it loud_   
_[Maroon 5, ‘Doin’ dirt’]_   


   
   
 _/ “Be free, act wild and amaze me.”/_  
Miroslav has commanded.

And Thomas is determined to do just that. He has to only make a good impression.  
That’s why he chooses his prey and walks towards him, self confidence dripping from every one of his steps.  
Manuel couldn’t know that Thomas has chosen him until the younger pushes him with his back against a wall and kisses him like someone who can take whatever he wants whenever he wants it, without even asking.  
Moans of pure delight from both of them fill the room.

Everyone is watching the scene enraptured, especially Miroslav who is enjoying it so much that he can clearly feels some waves of heat spreading in his lower abdomen.  
He will do something about that later, but not now that Thomas is showing him what he is capable of doing.

“Well, Manu, it has been years ago since the last time, but it seems that I still remember how to deal with you, don’t I?” Thomas smirks as he parts from the taller, in order to catch his breath.  
“Holy fucking shit, Thomas!” is Manuel more than eloquent answer, while the consequences of that start to show up between his legs.  
   
“Hey, it’s not fair, I wanted to pick Manu to do interesting stuff!” Bastian complains.  
“So did I!” Lukas retorts.  
“Yep, I don’t deny that I wouldn’t have minded taking another ride with him, too.” Mesut confesses.  
“Whatever, I’ve been faster than you, suckers!” Thomas brags.

“Hey! Wait a minute; what’s all this sudden interest towards Manu about?” Philipp squeaks, not liking it one bit.  
“Tsk, tsk, Philipp, c’mon, we have already established that this night is about sharing.” Miroslav reminds to him.  
“To be honest, _you_ established that on your own!” The captain points out.  
“Yep, but you all seemed to agree!” The oldest chuckles.

“It’s easier for you; you don’t have an established relationship with anyone in the team.” Philipp retorts.  
“Unfortunately not…” Miroslav sighs, while he can’t help glancing at Thomas who is too busy dealing with Manuel to notice that.

“Oh, c’mon, Phips, modern couples must be more open-minded nowadays!” Mesut winks at him.  
“Of course, but it's one thing to be open-minded and share, it's another thing to find out that more or less half the team craves your man!” Philipp mutters.  
“Baby, it’s not my fault if I’m so irresistible and in demand.” Manu smirks, while Thomas nibbles his shoulder.

“Damn right, Phips, did you see his Greek-god-like ass?” Thomas adds, slapping one of the statuesque butt cheeks in the process.  
“It’s _my_ Greek-god-like ass!” Philipp growls.

Manuel parts from Thomas, briefly, in order to go to Philipp.  
“Honey, please, there’s no need to be jealous. This is only a sexy and kinky game, just for tonight.” He murmurs, letting his slender fingers sink in his golden hair. “If you want, I’ll spend two days handcuffed to your bed, doing nothing but showing you to whom I really belong, my love.” He adds, sealing their lips with a short but very intense and languid kiss.

“Of course I want that to happen!” Philipp asserts, parting from his boyfriend. “Okay, go back to your game, stud.” He gives him his sort of benediction. “But don’t think that I’ll stand here just watching in the meantime. I’m going to follow these rules as well.”  
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, hun.” The goalkeeper smirks at him, before going back to Thomas again.

“Fine, then. I want Basti.” Philipp declares. “Do you mind?” He turns to the object of his attention.  
“Of course I don’t. Quite the contrary, I’m flattered, my Captain!” Bastian grins, taking some steps towards him, while Philipp mirrors his actions.  
“Is it going to be as fun as the last time?” The midfielder wonders, while he stares at his dark blue eyes.  
Philipp smirks, pushing him down on a nearby bed and straddling him.  
“Probably it will be even better!” He sneers, before kissing Bastian, hungrily.  
“Wow! Everything feels better when you lay on your back!” Basti approvingly giggles against his lips.

Lukas walks towards Mesut.  
“So it’s only you and me left. But I want you to know that I would have picked you anyway, hottie!” Lukas says while his hands wander over the Turk’s chest and abs.  
“Oh, I’m flattered, sweetie!” Mesut smirks, pinching his hips. “So, come here and let’s share some love made in Arsenal!” He adds, pulling the Pole closer and kissing him.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaat!?” Bastian interrupts them, parting from Phips. “What the hell does ‘love made in Arsenal’ mean? Luks, do you do that every time you’re in your team, when I’m not there with you?” He demands from his boyfriend.  
“Nope, but this is such a cool idea, we should do that, maybe involving part of our team, too!” Mesut grins.

“Shut up!” Lukas glares at his Arsenal teammate, before turning to his boyfriend. “No, baby, don’t listen to him. It didn’t ever happen and never will. I could never do that… it was just a simple statement... you know… Mesut and I are both in Arsenal and are about to share some love… well, not in a sentimental way, just and only sex!” He justifies.  
“Okay then, but you’d better not to do certain stuff outside of here, with him or with anyone else; otherwise I would have to chain you to the wall of my bedroom!” Bastian states possessively.  
“I wouldn’t mind, hun.” Lukas winks at him, before Mesut toys with his nipples.  
Philipp is regaining Bastian’s attention as well, cupping his firm ass and biting into his shoulder.

Miroslav chuckles.  
“What’s so fun?” Mario asks him, while he films every single one of the newly matched couples.  
“I was wondering… is there any sort of weird connection between jealousy and… being blond? Because, look, Phips and Basti are the only ones arguing for such a little change in the usual routine… and, incidentally, they’re both blond.” He makes everyone notice.

“Uhmm, let’s see if this theory works.” Thomas mumbles, turning to Mario. “Tell us, is Marco a little jealous?”  
Mario bursts out laughing.  
“Marco is a little jealous?! That’s like saying that there is a little water in an ocean. Practically, when I’m in Bayern, Marco sulks at me if I spend too much time with Robert, David, Dante, Sebastian, Gianluca or Xherdan, while when he’s in National Team with us he tends to keep me as far as possible from Julian, Erik, Matthias, Christoph, Shkodran…” The young striker starts his list.

“Mats and Benedikt?” Miroslav tries to guess, but he doesn’t know why everyone is looking at him in such disbelief.  
“Oh, c’mon, Miro, would you really be jealous of two guys who whenever they are together live in a world that belong only to each other?” Philipp points out.  
“Really?” Miro jolts. “Mats and Benni? Supposed to be arch-enemies and everything? Having girlfriends here, too?”  
“Sais the one who has wife and kids here…” Bastian chuckles.  
“Well, that’s different…” Miroslav shrugs.

“Well, different or not, yes, they belong to our same ‘I-also-love-guys’ exclusive club; with the only difference that those two don’t like sharing, that’s why they didn’t join us tonight!” Thomas explains.  
“Well, they’re pretty good at hiding everything.” Miro states, amused.  
“Nope, Opa, it’s you who are too blind to see that!” Thomas strikes back, making the older laugh.

“So, coming back to what we are saying, Marco is jealous as hell! Another element that proves my theory.” The Panzer recaps, before curiously staring at Manuel.  
“I know what you’re thinking, Miro. “ The goalkeeper replies. “Well, what can I say? Probably I’m not blond enough!” He shrugs.

“Yeah, Manu, why are you not jealous? Don’t I mean anything to you?” The Captain accuses his boyfriend, pouting with an insulted attitude.  
Thomas bursts out laughing.  
“I can’t believe it, Phips. Are you really jealous because Manu is not jealous?”  
“Hell yeah I am!” Philipp retorts.

“Enough is enough!” Manuel rolls his eyes, turning to Philipp. “Listen, you’re my world, baby. The only difference is that I’m not so jealous because I trust you and I know that what we’re doing now is spontaneous, unique and won’t change anything between us.”  
Miro claps his hands at him.  
“Manu, maybe you’re not the blondest, but surely you’re the wisest here in his room!” He states, smiling at the goalkeeper who adorably blushes.

Thomas assaults his lips once again and like a domino effect everyone resumes dealing with their partner.

“Yeah, that’s right. Go on  like that, guys, you’re doing it very well.” Miroslav spurs them.  
“Hell yeah, this is pure gold for my video!” Mario approves, while he keeps filming every second of it, walking around every busy pairing.  
Mesut parts from Lukas, in order to smirk at the youngest.

“Geez, Mario, you’re definitely getting a taste for that!” He chuckles.  
“Well, you know, this was my second long-time dream: if I hadn’t become a professional football player, I’d be a porn movie director!” He states, challenging the Turk with his look.

Everyone pauses to stare at the kid as if he came from Mars.  
“What?!” Miroslav speaks for everyone.

Mario bursts out laughing.  
“Geez, I can’t believe that you all even bought it, you, dummies! I was joking, of course!” He sticks his tongue out at them.

“Mario, I swear this is the last time I let you have alcohol!” Manuel yells at him.  
Mario shrugs.  
“You wish! Now less talking and more sexy actions, keep dealing with the other hottie!’ He says, winking at a rather bewildered Thomas.

Also Philipp takes a break from Bastian’s ministrations, but in order to turn to Miroslav.  
“What ‘bout you, Miro? Aren’t you bored all alone in that corner?” He purrs at him, lust in his ocean blue eyes.  
Miro shakes his head and stares at him, smirking.  
“I could never get bored with such a show you’re giving to me!” He purrs and starts to caress his gradually hardening cock.

Seeing that, also Mario feels some relevant pulses in his own cock and would like to do something about it, but he has to film the whole thing and not himself. Well, not that Marco would mind seeing such stuff, too, but… whatever!

Everyone stops and turns to look at their football hero, especially when they hear his moans of pleasure.  
Miroslav figures that out and stops caressing himself.

“Naughty, naughty.” He giggles. “Stop staring at me, guys, and go on with what you were doing, you are the real show.” He urges them.  
“But you…” Thomas protests quietly.  
“There will be plenty of time to take care of  me, sweetie.” The Pole winks at him with a sexy innuendo.  “Right now you have other arms craving you.”  
Miro obtains what he wants and every pairing keeps getting down to their businesses.

It’s only a matter of time before Phips and Basti are wanking each other off, while Mesut’s head is between Lukas’ thighs and the young Pole looks ecstatic.  
Now that everyone pays attention only to the respecting partner, Miro can resume jerking himself off.  
The room is filled with moans, panting, sucking, kissing and masturbation noise; the sexual – finally resolved – tension in the air is so thick that anyone could cut it with a knife.

Manu and Thom are still busy kissing and caressing each other, without much rush, simply enjoying their moment together.  
“Sweetie, I don’t know if this is a challenge, but if it is, we’re losing points… we need to move to hotter stuff…” Manu whispers to him, glancing at his boyfriend’s activity.  
Thomas sneers, before going behind him and bending down.  
“Hotter stuff you said, didn’t you?” He murmurs, trailing with kisses his back, going lower and lower.  
Manuel shivers in anticipation; he knows that there’s so much more to come.  
“Do you think this is hot enough?” Thomas asks him, before deliberately biting his right butt cheek.  
And it’s not a blunt bite at all.  
“Ouch! Are you nuts?” Manu complains, in painful disappointment. “Oh, no, wait…. it feels so good! Oh, god!” He moans, slave of pleasure, feeling his cock hardening considerably.

But mostly Miro seems to appreciate that scene, drawing his complete attention and that helps him reach the edge.  
“Waah, that’s what I call going wild!” He congratulates Thomas, while he’s busy cleaning his own mess with some paper tissues.  
“Tsk, tsk, this is such a waste!” Mesut protests, right after tasting Lukas’ deepest essence.  
Miro giggles and shrugs.  
“My dear, the night is still so long and anything can happen.” The older winks at him.

Philipp and Bastian complete their mutual hand-jobs almost at the same time, while Thomas is taking good care of Manuel’s cock, using both of his hands, until the goalkeeper reaches his orgasm.  
First round seems to be over.

“Can we have some fun with you now, Miro?” Manuel asks him, although he still has to properly recover after Thomas’s ministrations.  
Surprisingly, Miro shakes his head.  
“Not yet. You all did a great job so far, but truth is that I want my men to be equally pleased before dealing with me.” He sneers.

Hearing that sentence Thomas feels his own dick twinge … but in a very good way.  
He really can’t wait to deal with Miro.

“Which means that there will be a second round, pairings will remain the same, but you’ll have to switch roles: who first gave pleasure will now receive it.” Miroslav commands.

Thomas casts an expecting look at Manu. “I like that!” He smirks. “But don’t you dare try the bite ass thing on me!”  
 “Don’t worry, buddy, I guess that if I don’t try that on Phips first, he’s going to kill me!” Manuel admits.  
“You guess right!” Philipp states in a threatening tone, before realizing something.

“Well, Miro, Basti and I are already equally pleased, so… can we already deal with you?” He eagerly hazards.  
“You wish!” Thomas lively protests, but as soon as Manuel’s hands find their goal, his mind is blown away.  
“Nice try, Philipp, but… nope. You must wait for the others.” Miro establishes. “Besides, since you and Basti jumped to bigger stuff way too quickly, you could use this time to go back to the littler stuff. Never underestimate the importance of a kiss.” He advises them.

“Well, I surely won’t find boring trying that out with you.” Bastian murmurs, hugging Philipp from behind and kissing him good and proper.

“I just hope there’s enough battery in my iPhone to immortalize everything!” Mario wishes, checking the bar on his display, which is still positively loaded at sixty-three percent. “Well, I guess I must thank you, Manu, for preventing me from using it too much earlier tonight!” He smiles at the goalkeeper.

“By the way, Mario, have you informed your beloved about what you were going to do?” Mesut asks him, while Lukas’ hands are working their magic on his aching dick.  
“Yeah, right, it must be at least half an hour since you’ve exchanged text messages with him.” Manu adds.  
Mario tries his best not to make his iPhone falls from his hands because of the panic attack.

“Shit! I forgot to tell him! Now he’ll probably be thinking that I’m dead or stuff like that!” He acts desperate.  
“Sure as hell, poor Sugar Puff will raise hell if he doesn’t hear about his Love Muffin for a while!” Thomas makes fun of him.  
Yep, making a witty remark is more important to him than receiving all of Manuel's attentions.  
Mario glares at him, insulted.  
“Hey! We don’t call each other such horrible, sissy nicknames!” He grumbles.

Lukas is impressed for another reason.  
“Do you and Marco really exchange so many text messages so frequently?” He asks him, astonished.  
“You bet! Text messages, WhatsApp, Skype, phone calls; whatever we can do to keep in contact during our spare time.” Mario replies, thrilled.  “We often keep going on all night long, until we fall asleep, but even in sleep, by default, we keep texting and it’s not unusual that the morning after one of us finds on his display the utterly no-sense text message the other oddly managed to send. And I always treasure his ones!” He confesses, softened.

“I don’t know why, but I’m not so surprised hearing that!” Bastian sarcastically comments, before turning to Lukas, sort of pissed off. “Did you hear what they do? And yet, if I send some text messages to you or try to call you, I’m annoying!”  
“Fresh news for you, Schweini: _forty_ bloody text messages and _five_ phone call a day are a bit annoying!” Lukas strikes back, rolling his eyes. “Basti, I love you more than anything, but I can’t spend my whole life at phone or connected to Skype!”  
Bastian turns his back to him, insulted and resume kissing Philipp, but the Captain parts from him, in order to say something.

“Well, Manu and I don’t have that kind of trouble!” He states, winking at his boyfriend.  
“Fuck you!” is the answer they both receive in unison by Basti, Lukas and even Mario.  
“Well, we’d like to, but someone here is preventing us from doing that!” Manuel retorts, pretending to glare at Miro.  
“Yeah, sure, as if you were complaining!” Miro giggles, recalling what Thomas had done to Manuel before.

All of the sudden, three synchronized vibrations on some mobiles draw everyone’s attention.  
They’re from Manu's, Mesut's and Thomas’s mobiles and their owners stop their activities, in order to take their smartphones. They find out that there are three notifications on WhatsApp.  
“They’re all from Marco.” Mesut says, reading the first one out loud. “’Hey, guys, what’s going on?’”  
“’Is Mario alright?’” Manu reads the second one.  
“’What the hell are you doing to him?’ Ahah, look, there’s even an angry emoticon that agitates its fist!” Thomas giggles, showing the display to everyone.

Mario paces around the room, agitated, rubbing his face with a frustrated hand.  
“Oh no, I knew that my Spiky Potato would get worried if he didn’t heard from me for so long!” He mutters, concerned.  
Too bad he doesn’t realize that he didn’t just confine himself to thinking that.

Mesut bursts out laughing.  
“Spiky Potato?!” He repeats, incredulous.  
“That’s even worse than Sugar Puff!” Thomas laughs madly, holding his stomach.  
But Mario is just too worried to be embarrassed.

“Guys, seriously, I need to let Marco know that I’m okay, but I can’t use my iPhone, I need it for the video…” He explains.  
“You can use mine, but don’t you dare send Marco more than one text message!” Thomas offers, handing his iPhone to him.  
“No, wait, Mario, you can take mine if you want to call him, because right now I guess he needs to hear your voice to believe you’re still alive.” Manuel says.  
“May I really call him?” Mario stares at the goalkeeper with eyes full of thankfulness.

“Yep, but on two conditions.” Manuel informs him. “First, don’t take too long, it’s an intercontinental call, for God’s sake!” He reminds to him. “And second, you must use speakerphone, me and the guys here want to hear everything!” He sneers.  
“Hell yeah, so maybe we can find out if Marco has an awful nickname for you, too!” Thomas chuckles.  
Mario accepts that compromise and dials Marco's number, hesitantly.

Marco picks the call at the third ring.  
“Manu?” He answers, confusion in his tone.  
“Nope, Marco, it’s me, Manu just lent his mobile to me, because… “ Mario tries to explain.

“Chubby Puppy! Finally! Where the hell were you? I was so damn worried!” The BVB player squeaks, before hearing some laughter in the background. “Hey, what’s going on?”  
“I didn’t manage to inform you that we are in speakerphone at the moment… Spiky Potato!” Mario gives in, rolling his eyes.  
“Oops!” Marco says, sort of amused. “Well, hi everyone, then!”

And then Mario quickly informs his boyfriend about all the stuff that is happening.

“Phew! Why do I always miss the funniest stuff?” Marco snorts, grieving a little bit.  
“Look, Marco, even Mario is missing everything, because he has clearly decided that he doesn’t want to do anything if you’re not here with him.” Manuel informs him.  
“Aww, thank you, Chubby Puppy!” Marco softens.

Mario is already beyond awkward to mind at the repeated use of his private love nickname.  
“And guess what? Your _Chubby Puppy_ here is becoming a professional hard movie filmmaker!” Mesut informs him, giggling.  
“What?” Marco frowns, intrigued.

“Yeah, honey, you heard it right. I’m filming everything for you, can’t wait to show you everything when I see you again… and we could do some new, so inspiring stuff, too…” Mario kinkily suggests, before turning to the others. “Please, can I turn speakerphone off now?”  
“You’re allowed.” Manuel concedes, allowing the two lovers to say their goodbyes properly.

Mario gives the iPhone back to Manuel, while he keeps thanking him for that.  
“I’ll buy you a charge card!” The young striker promises.  
“There’s no need, pup!” Manuel shrugs, before recalling the important stuff. “Now, if you don’t mind, I had important works in progress! He smirks, coming back to Thomas.

Also Mesut go back to Lukas, while Philipp and Bastian are the only ones who don’t have to restart anything, because they went on with the kissing even during the whole phone call.

Miroslav has chosen to remain quieter during the second round, but not so quite after all.

As a matter of fact, when they least expect it, he approaches Lukas and Mesut and kisses the Turk just when the younger Pole is making him lose himself to bliss.  
Mesut is beyond honored, being Miro’s first choice among them all and kisses him back with passion, wishing that his hands could go a little bit lower than his abs zone.  
But the oldest doesn’t please him, parting from him.

“I confirm, Mesut. You do taste and smell exotic!” Miro smirks, liking his lips, satisfied.  
“Do you also want to find out how my lips taste?” Lukas shyly offers.  
“You bet!” Miroslav smiles at him, before pulling him closer and sealing their lips in a demanding kiss that leads to hands exploring bodies as well.  
“[Amazing!]” Miro whispers at him in their native language, parting from him.

Miro moves between Basti and Philipp, kissing and briefly touching both of the blonds, one by one.  
“About time you decided to join the party!” Philipp purrs, passing a thumb over his own lips.  
“Oh, please, this is only a small appetizer, we still have to enjoy the real dinner!” Miro grins, with a look full of spicy promises.

He reaches the last pairing, first he enjoys his time with Manuel, kissing him, caressing his chest, forearms, pinching his hips and lightly slapping his butt.  
“Woah!” Manu moans in appreciation, parting from him.  
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time!” The Pole winks at him, before turning his attention to Thomas.

“How can it be that I’m always the last one in your list?” Thomas complains, pouting.  
Miroslav smiles and captures that oh so delicious lower lip in a tiny nibble, before kissing him.  
“Müllie, Müllie, don’t you know that saying?” The older murmurs against his lips. “Save the best for last!” He adds, making the younger smile, before they deepen their kiss.  
“Mm… I missed your taste.” Thomas moans, almost disappointed when the other parts from him.

 But Miro is still smiling at him.  
“Do you want to have a different taste of me, Müllie?”  
Thomas has some trouble coming to terms with what Miroslav has just suggested to him.

“Sure I do, but… I feel too egoistic … after all here, tonight, I’m not the only one who wants something from you, I should share…” The Bavarian babbles, taking a look around and feeling like a wolf that wants to keep the lamb that he has just captured only for himself, letting the rest of the pack starve.  
Well, not that Miroslav is an innocent, defenseless lamb.  
Quite the contrary, he’s the main predator and the others are all his more than willing preys.

Said predator gets up and walks towards a still empty bed.

“I guess that Thomas is right. Come here guys. Let’s not deny it, you all want me and I want you as well… so let’s do something about that!” he invites his teammates, lasciviously lying down on the mattress.

Dinner is about to be served.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you managed to reach the end? Really? *O*  
> Kudos for you and tons of apologies once again
> 
> I just thank ‘these ‘ Mario and Marco who have been my breath of fresh air among all that kinky hotness XD  
> Feel free to tell me even the most horrible things, I perfectly know I’m not good at writing NC17 stuff ;P  
> Hopefully, next chapter should be the last.
> 
> p.s. Next update will be ‘Too Soon’ and, nope, rating will not increase there XD  
> p.p.s. If you have twitter, if you want, hit me on @CherishedDream4 ;P


	6. VI: Put your hands all over me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to make the real party start. Kinkness rules, be warned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Err.. hello?  
> I know.. I have no excuses for this late, but I’ll explain in the last notes…  
> Thanks for kudos and for – geez! – all this subscriptions *O* I just hope not to let you down :/
> 
> Not betaed (but Peter is coming back ^^ ) , so forgive my bad mistakes once more…

  
_Put your hands all over me_  
Please talk to me, talk to me  
Tell me everything, is gonna be alright  
 _Put your hands all over me_  
Please walk with me, walk with me now  
Love is a game you say  
Play me and put me away  
 _[Maroon 5, ‘Hands all over’ ]_  


   
“Are you serious?” Bastian wonders, taking a few steps closer with the others.  
“Of course, I am. Well, if you all agree, that’s it.” He adds, doubtfully.

“This is not a clever question to ask us, Miro!” Philipp reassures him. “I guess that everyone here in this room worships you, so could there ever be a better occasion to prove that to you?” He smirks.  
“Damn right. We all wished to have some fun with you tonight, but we would never expect so much fun!” Manuel states with a smile.

“Okay, so now I guess that you should split in two teams.” The oldest instructs them.  
“Why?” Mesut frowns.  
“Well, because I guess there are only three areas where you can have fun, so the other three guys would get bored in the meantime.” Miro explains.  
“And these funny areas would be?” Mario grows curios, without stopping to film it all.  
“Oh, well, my cock, that’s for sure, then my mouth and mostly my…huh, I guess you figured it out!” The older Pole chuckles.

“Miro, when you say your mouth, you mean…” Bastian lingers on, leaving his question incomplete, but Miroslav figures out what he means.  
“Noooo!” He squeaks. “No way, I meant only for kissing!” He points out.  
“Okay, but there’s no reason for you to act like a shy virgin lady; which you are not for sure!” Philipp states, astonishing everyone.  
Usually their Captain doesn’t talk like that.  
God bless all the alcohol in his blood system!

“It’s not for that! It’s just because, being the worshipped guy in question, I’m not supposed to do anything; it’s you who have to please me, it’s your duty.”  
“Believe me, it’s not a duty at all!” Thomas giggles, slowly passing his tongue on his upper lip, which is a gesture that makes Miroslav drool in anticipation.

“Anyway, Miro, if you really think that you have only three funny areas… you’re so damn wrong!” Lukas chuckles.  
“What do you mean?” The oldest frowns.

“I mean that you neck seems so tempting to nibble and I’m a wonderful hickeyer... if it’s a word!” Lukas giggles.  
“I guess it can be.” Miro smiles, caressing his neck while he imagines Lukas doing such stuff on him.  
“You won’t regret it, Miro. Whenever Lukas does that it makes me more dizzy than after twelve beers!” Bastian reveals, casting a sexy look in Lukas’ direction.  
“Mm... good to know.” Miroslav smirks. “So what about you? Could you do amazing things on my neck as well? After all, I have two sides…” He suggests.  
He’s definitely flirting with both of them and he couldn’t care less.

“Tempted, but no, thanks. I’m a nipple-guy. You know, I guess I could play with your nipples all night long, sucking, nibbling, pinching… getting them so hard that you could hang your jersey on them!” Bastian states.  
“Waah, I guess that I’ve underestimated my body after all..” Miroslav moans, eager to let that game start.  
“Damn right, Opa! And I guess I could flick my tongue inside out your belly, while I wait for more interesting stuff to happen.” Mesut winks at him.  
“O-okay guys, you definitely proved a point. But maybe you could rotate roles and positions. I just want to be sure that everyone has the right amount of fun.” Miro insists.

“So are you really asking for the six of us to fuck you relentlessly?” Bastian wonders.  
“Well, y-yes!” Miro stutters.  
“And are you sure you can really take it?” Manuel questions him.  
Miroslav grows a little nervous.  
“Y-ye-yes!”  
“Miro, this is not the first time for you, is this?” Philipp asks, concerned.

 “Nope, of course it’s not. Wait, I mean, it’s the first time with six guys… and more than probably it’s even the last; but I’ve already had my experiences with… a guy.” He reveals.  
“Who?” Manu wonders curiously.  
“Is he someone in the National Team?” Mesut asks him.  
Miro nods.  
“Is he still in the National Team?” Lukas interrogates him.  
Miro shakes his head negatively.

“It was back in 2002… Geez, I’m so old!” Miro rolls his eyes in discomfort.  
“You don’t grow old, Miro, you just grow sexier.” Thomas smirks, making the oldest blush.  
“Believe me, Miro, if I met the Miro of the past now probably he wouldn’t have the same allure of the Miro of the present!” The young Bavarian confesses.

“You know what, Miro? Save for the real love relationships that we have,” Philipp commences, glancing briefly at Manuel who smiles fondly at him.  
Also Lukas and Bastian glance at each other, beaming.

Miroslav searches for a sign of affection between Mesut and Thomas and he’s pleased when he surprisingly finds none.

“This ‘thing’ we all have been having among us…” Philipp goes on, but pauses in order to gesture to everyone in the room, save for Mario and Miroslav. “We were sure that it would end when we’d grow older.”

“But if we age like you do… it will be impossible to stop!” Bastian completes the sentence for him, making the Pole blush even more.  
“Woah! Thank you, guys, you surely know how to make a man feel appreciated!” He awkwardly babbles.

“Yep, sexy man, but don’t think that we forgot the main topic. We’re still waiting for answers.” Manuel reminds to him.  
“Yeah, right, c’mon, spit that name out!” Mesut urges him.

“Okay: Tim Borowski.” Miroslav confesses once for all.  
“Holy fuck! He was such a hottie!” Philipp exclaims, surprising everyone. “Too bad I’ve never had a chance to know him better during National duties. I wasn’t the Captain yet back to those days, so I couldn’t have all my wishes granted!” He grumbles.

There’s no need to say that Manuel is not very happy about such a revelation, out of the blue.

“Hey! I don’t know if I want to hear about you mourning that damn guy!” He snaps.  
“Oh, c’mon, my big guy, you weren’t even in the team yet when I fancied him.” Philipp justifies.  
“Well, it’s not a good reason not to already love me!” Manuel insists, crossing his arms.

“Okay, Miro, before we get to serious business, would you please let me reassure my boyfriend?” The Captain asks him and Miro nods.  
Philipp walks towards Manuel.

“Since the very first moment I’ve laid my eyes on you, I’ve never been able to see anyone else anymore; and yours are the only arms I want to have wrapped around me.” Philipp declares.  
Manuel melts down like snow in the sun, blushing a little and grinning at Philipp, so the Captain knows for sure that his mission is accomplished.

“Well, save for Miro.” The goalkeeper adds.  
“Yes, of course, but it’s different. He’s only temporary, he’s a dream that all of us want to come true, at least once. So we can go on with our lives a lot happier than before.” Philipp explains. “No offence intended, Miro!”  
“Of course, because I agree. This is a night to fully enjoy, in order to always save a good memory of it. But not to repeat ever again!” The oldest states.  
Thomas reluctantly nods with the others.

 

\- Okay, maybe not with everyone, but I don’t want something only temporary with Miro. I need more… but I’ll never get it, so I’d better be content with this one night only.- He ponders.

“So, Miro, don’t think that you can confess such a thing without giving us all the details!” Bastian reminds to him.  
“Yes, c’mon, tell us. How did it happen? Where? When? Who made the first move?” Mesut floods him with questions.

“It was after a particular good day of training, before an important World Cup match. It only took a hungry look between us in the lockers… and the moment after we were kissing as if there was no tomorrow. After all, there had always been a strong physical attraction between us. We were young. We were reckless. We were curious. And if kissing had been so amazing, we just couldn’t wait to find out how the rest would be.” Miro starts his tale.

Thomas can’t help feeling a tiny pang of jealousy.

\- Oh c’mon, Thomas, this doesn’t make any sense, I was a kid when that happened! – He reminds to himself.

“And how was the rest?” The young Bavarian forces himself to ask him.

“It was worth the try.” Miro smiles at the memory. “We had other rendezvous during that year, but neither of us really tried hard enough to make it work.” He confesses.  
“Well, maybe you were too young…” Mario states.

“Look who’s talking!” Mesut makes fun of him.  
“No, wait, Mario is right. We were too young to know what we really wanted. But, just like Mario, sometimes a young guy can be already much mature than many aged men.” Miro confirms.

“That’s true; maybe a guy can even act childishly and foolishly all time long, but can be extremely serious about the matters that are really important.” Thomas agrees with him, as if he wanted to give him a clear message.

“So when did you find out that it didn’t work anymore?” Lukas interrogates Miroslav.

“Oh, well, immediately after the World Cup, during the other National Duties, it wasn’t like before, there was something missing… but we had the unequivocal proof in 2008, when he joined Bayern. We could spend lots of time together… and yet neither I, nor Tim seemed to care. We just tried once and… the magic was gone forever.” Miroslav confesses.

Thomas feels his pangs of jealousy grow stronger.

\- 2008? What? I was there too! And I wasn’t a damn kid anymore! Well, maybe I was at Miro’s eyes, but that’s not the bloody point! Why didn’t he search for the magic with me back then? – The Bavarian keeps tormenting himself.

“That’s it. So, is there any other question or... can we make it start? I’m growing a little impatient.” Miro reveals.

There’s no need for further words. He kneels on the bed, spreading his legs, where Thomas gently places himself, staring intently at him, before doing anything. Manu starts to kiss him, slowly, without any rush, Lukas bends on the right side of his neck, Bastian stretches his hands until he reaches Miro’s nipples, Mesut does the same to reach his belly, while Philipp starts to caress his butt cheeks.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to hold on for a while again!” Mario asserts.

“What now?” Bastian frowns at him, rather annoyed.  
But it’s nothing compared to Miro. If looks could kill, Marco would already mourn Mario’s death.

“Guys, I’m not joking, it’s an emergency. I don’t have enough memory in my mobile to film it all, I need to clear some stuff first, so… everyone, please, stop doing any filmable thing!” The youngest explains.

In a lucid situation it would be enough to lend Mario any of the others’ mobiles, but no one manages to be lucid in such a hot situation!

“Okay, then, but hurry the fuck up!” Miroslav urges the boy and it’s very rare for him to talk that rudely. It’s a clear sign of his sexual frustration.

“Huh! Yes, Sir, sure sooner than immediately!” The poor guys incoherently replies, flicking through his whole video gallery.

“Let’s see, my little cousin’s Holy Communion, oh well, I’ll film her Confirmation!” He decides, deleting the video in question. “My friends’ wedding, oh well… I definitely can live without it!” He shrugs, erasing that one as well. “What’s this? Last Bayern’s away game, I don’t need it, either…”

“Hey, no! Wait, Mr. Easy-Removal, there’s also me in that!”  Thomas protests, as he furtively appears at his back.  
Mario jolts, but then he realizes who it is and he’s calm again.

“If you recall, Thom, I already gave you a copy of that, so, please, just shut up!” He says, deleting even that video.  
Thomas catches a glimpse of something.

“Hey, wait, what’s that file?” The Bavarian says, pointing at the screen of Mario’s mobile. “ ‘ _Marco arranges his hair_ ’” He manages to read.  
Poor Mario turns as red as a tomato.

“Why don’t you delete that one? There are at least twenty videos!” Thomas insists.

“No bloody way! Every of these videos is different and special, you have no idea how many way Marco has to arrange his beautiful hair!” Mario lively protests, setting his iPhone back on recording.

“However, now I gained enough memory, no need to delete anything else. So now do me a favour and go back with the others doing the kinky, dirty things!” The youngest urges him.

“Damn right, Müllie, come back here, if this is an Harem, then I’m missing my favourite Geisha!” Miro purrs.

Thomas doesn’t make him wait any longer and resumes – or better starts- his ministration on him.  
Even the very first, a little clumsy and hesitant touch of Thomas’ lips on his length sends Miro into pure ecstasy.  
Yeah, Lukas’ hickeys, Manu’s wet kiss, the sweet torture Bastian he’s giving to his nipples, Mesut’s soft nibbles on his belly and abs are giving Miro a huge amount of pleasure, but, oh god, Thomas’ lips are the best thing he could ask for, second only to the look in the young Bavarian’s eyes, a look of reverence, of pure adoration. For him only.

That’s why Philipp doesn’t even need to prepare him much, before slowly pushing inside him.

“Oh yes, oh god.. more!” Miro moans, parting briefly from Manu, but without knowing whom he is asking for more, everyone increases their rhythm.  
Particularly Thomas is enjoying himself a lot. Wake up his adored Miro in such a way every day? Yeah, he could easily live with that.

And it’s just his skillful mouth, combined with Philipp’s pushes that brings Miro to the ultimate pleasure, while he screams in delight.  
And having a chance to taste the essence of such a Legend, Thomas surely doesn’t hang off, delighting Miro even more.

Everyone parts from him and they all take a little break, before Miro gives orders, once he recovered.

“Wooah, guys, that was fucking intense! Okay, so now, Mesut, since you had less fun than the others, you can take Philipp’s place; Müllie, you must kiss me; Bastian can take your place and… Manu, Fips, do whatever you please!”

So, five seconds after saying that, Miro is tasting himself in Thomas’ passionate kiss, while Bastian takes great care of his cock, Lukas plays with his nipples, proving that he’s almost as good as his lover, Mesut cups his bottom, before making him feeling his presence, and Manuel and his boyfriend challenge each other to find out who is going to leave the most showy hickey on each side of the Pole’s neck.

“Oh god, guys, this is so hot that my iPhone could catch fire any moment!” Mario moans, visibly aroused.

Once even that session is done, Thomas is unwilling to part from his lips so soon. Yeah, his previous task was hot as hell, but kissing Miro is like perfection, is like having everything in the world, without desiring anything more.

\- But good things must end.-  He reminds to himself, waiting for Miroslav’s next decision.

“Lukas, kiss me, Manu, take Basti’s position, Bastian, you can ride me good and proper and, all the others, invent something!” He suggests, enjoying that game more and more.

“Are you sure you can take it?” Bastian asks him.  
“Sure, that’s what I’m asking for.” Miroslav assures.

“Yep, but there’s a big difference between wanting something and actually getting it. So far, I’ll be the third taking you, there are others after me… and you’re really sure you can take anyone?” The blond asks again.  
“Well, let’s try…” The brunet replies, less determined than before.

“I mean, Miro, it’s like aiming for… I don’t know, Tour de France, when you’ve just been biking for few kilometers…” The Bavarian tries to reason with him.  
“I know, but I don’t care, I want Tour de France, so, c’mon, give me another … stage!” The Pole winks at him and that’s what convinces Bastian once for all.

While all the others are busy with their tasks, Thomas decides that Miro’s back has been too ignored and starts to place little nibbles on his shoulders, peppering all his back with kisses and leaving little scratches.  
It’s another of the things that Miroslav appreciates a lot from him.

The rotation game goes on, because surprisingly Miro can really take it; but when it’s Thomas turn to finally ride him, the younger simply refuses, shaking his head.

“What?” Miro frowns.  
“Forgive me, Miro, it’s not that I wouldn’t like it, but not this way… I mean, it’s too cliché, it’s almost like crossing a toll-highway… it’s just too impersonal and I don’t like it.” Thomas confesses, parting from everyone.

Miroslav concedes another break and reaches for Thomas.

“Hey, Thom, would you like it to be more personal… between you and me?” He figures out, smiling.  
Thomas just confines himself to shrugging.  
“I want too many things, but it’s not the point; it’s your special night and we are here to please you.” The Bavarian answers, smiling back at him, but there's a shadow of sadness in that smile that Miroslav notices.

“Don’t worry. After all, you would be the last… so I guess we can end the game here and… maybe have a shower and sleep? It’s almost 3:00 a.m., after all…” The oldest makes everyone notice.

“You’re right… and considering the flight back home we have tomorrow… rest would be a wise decision.” Lukas states.  
“But Prince Poldi and I here were talking about something we would want to see.” Bastian explains.  
“I guess you saw every possible inch of me tonight!” Miroslav chuckles.

“I mean, it’s not anything sexual, it’s just… the cryotherapy. Could you show us that?” Lukas points out.  
“And maybe make us try that, too?” Bastian hazards.  
“Sure, just… where? I don’t think it’s very wise if we go to the public swimming pool… in this very questionable state.” Miro asserts.

“Why would we need a public swimming pool when in my bathroom there’s a Jacuzzi big enough for the eight of us! These are the benefits of being the Captain!” Philipp grins, while the others acclaim him.  
“Easy with your excitement, guys. You know, diligent Philipp right now should say that it’s too late, we already had lots of fun, so now we just have to go to sleep.” Philipp reminds everyone, without minding at their loud disappointment.  “But guess what? Diligent Philipp can screw up!” He bursts out laughing. “This is drunk and horny Philipp and drunk and horny Philipp says ‘Lets’ fucking do it!’” He incites everyone, a little hyper.

Manuel pulls him closer to himself.

“I love drunk and horny Philipp, especially when he talks in third person, he’s even sexier!” He purrs, kissing his Captain. “I love diligent Philipp as well.” He rushes to add.  
“I know!” Philipp chuckles, kissing him back.

Everyone moves towards the bathroom and Philipp lets the water fill the Jacuzzi.

“Basti and I will take the ice!” Lukas offers, while they wear their trousers in order to go in the corridor.

“Stop where you are. I know you damn well guys, you are dangerous at every hour of the day and the night. Lukas stays here, Manu will go with you, Basti, to get the ice.” Philipp commands.

“What’s this? Some interferences from diligent Philipp?” Bastian rolls his eyes.  
“Yep and God bless that holy guy!” The Captain strikes back.

In several minutes everything is ready, the Jacuzzi is filled and with the ice that Manu and Basti provided the temperature of the water is icy enough.

“Before starting, I suggest to you guys to wear, if not your trousers, at least your boxer, if you want to keep your family jewels safe!” Miroslav advises, wearing his boxers.  
And then, without even grimacing a little bit, the Pole immerges himself in the icy water, as if it was his natural habitat.

“You have no idea how good this is for your body after playing a tiring match.” He says, enjoying the benefits of the cold.  
“You have no idea of what a vision you are!” Thomas winks at him, framing his idol in a picture with his iPhone.

“Okay, who wants to try first?” The Pole asks, but despite being the first asking for that, Bastian and Lukas now are a bit reluctant.  
“Okay, guys, let me try. I need something fresh, after all.” Mesut offers, ready to go inside the Jacuzzi.  
“Wait, I want to try as well!” Philipp adds, reaching his teammate.

No matter how hard they try, both of them don’t manage to stay in the water for more than thirty seconds.

“Dammit, it’s fucking cold!” Philipp squeaks, coming out and searching for some warmth in Manuel’s arms.  
“Damn right! How do you manage to do this every time?” The Turk wonders, mirroring Philipp's actions and wrapping himself around a bath towel.

“It comes after years of experience, training… with a little help of yoga.” Miro confesses.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m sure it’s not that impossible to do!” Lukas changes his mind, jumping into the Jacuzzi.  
He resorts to all his strength but after one minute he really can’t take it anymore.

“Oh m-my g-god,  it’s too freaking cold!” He stutters, while Bastian rushes to help him.

“Geez, guys, if only you didn’t escape so quickly, I could try to do something to keep you warm!” Miro rolls his eyes.

“Okay, I’m up for it, but you must keep me very warm!” Thomas announces.  
“I will, Müllie.” The other smiles, stretching his hand to help him get inside.

Once he’s in the water, without even giving Thomas the time to realize how cold the temperature is, Miro pulls him on his lap and starts to kiss him.  
Thomas relaxes into the kiss, pressing himself closer to the Pole and locking his arms around his neck.

Everyone stares astonished at that scene, even more when Thomas manages to hold on five minutes, still kissing Miro.  
That’s before a shower of ice cubes fall over them, breaking the magic.

Thomas whines and goes out of the Jacuzzi, shivering.  
Miroslav leaves the Jacuzzi as well, casting to the two hecklers his best killing look.

“Maybe the water wasn’t icy enough anymore!” Bastian and Manuel say in unison, placing the second bucket of ice – now empty- on the floor and laughing for the success of their prank.

“Manuel Peter Neuer!” Philipp hisses, enraged. “You were supposed to keep an eye on him… not to become a Lukas wannabe!”

“I know, honey, but… Bastian can be so persuasive…” Manuel tries to justify.

“Well, guys, you know what? With all that ice added, now the water is impossibly cold…” Miro states, exchanging an understanding gaze with Philipp and Thomas. “The perfect thing for a little punishment!” He adds and immediately after the trio grabs Bastian and lifts him up.

Lukas, Mesut and Mario – who has placed his iPhone on a shelf to keep filming – deal with Manuel, until both of them are thrown into the icy water.

Lucky for them, they’re still wearing their trousers.

“Nooo.. please, let us go.. I’m fucking freezing!” Bastian whines.  
“Pleaaase, I won’t do anything like that anymore.. I don’t want to die frozen in this fucking tube!” Manuel whines, but the others keep holding them into the water for a very long minute that finally teaches them a good lesson.

“That’s it, guys, end of the filming!” Mario declares, pressing stop. “What about waiting for the water to be less icy and have a celebrating bath all together?” He suggests.  
“I say that you have wonderful ideas, little kid!”  The oldest smiles at him.  
“Thank you, Miroslav.” The youngest grins.  
“You can call me Miro.” The Pole winks at him.  
This makes the young striker grin even more.

\-----------------------------------------------

Once the bath is over, finally everyone is ready to sleep and around 4:00 a.m. in that room there’s the most complete quiet.

Until Mesut needs more space and spreads his legs and arms, hitting Thomas’ face in the process.  
They ended up sharing the bed together and this is the price he has to pay.

“Phew, damn you, Mesut..” The Bavarian whines, pushing away his heavy arm, without even waking him up.

Thomas decides that he can’t sleep in such little space, so he gets up and wanders towards another available spot.  
The room is dark, but the moon filtering through the windows helps him to see where he places his feet, not to stumble.  
Fortunately Miro isn’t sharing his bed with anyone.

As silent as he can, Thomas climbs on his bed, crouching closer to him, but without touching him.  
The last thing he wants is to wake him up, so if he has to sleep on the edge of the bed, he will.

But unluckily – or luckily- for him, Miroslav is on a stage of light sleep and wakes up easily, staring at him in wonder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up, but Mesut invaded all my vital space…” Thomas justifies, pointing at the source of his trouble.  
Miroslav can clearly see Mesut while he sleeps occupying every possible spot of the bed.

He sweetly smiles at Thomas, making more room for him.  
“Don’t worry, Thom, you can invade my vital space how much you want.” He declares.

Thomas thanks him with a grin, before snuggling closer to him, placing his head on his chest.

“Not only tonight.” Miro adds in a whisper, only when he’s utterly sure that the younger is already too deep asleep to hear him.  
   
\--  
THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, this story didn’t stop being pro Kloller from the beginning to the very end, it’s stronger than me! XD  
> I apologize, this thing will have a sequel. No wait, even more than one.  
> I apologize if this thing has been too kinky or not too kinky, nc17 is just not my comfort zone, I prefer focusing on the speeches and the situations rather than the graphic sex scenes.  
> I apologize for the damn late, but it wasn’t easy to write it at all, also thanks to a damn flu that doesn’t want to abandon me since last Friday… well maybe it helped me to write even crazier things than my usual XD  
> Hope you’re still sticking around and if you leave even a tiny sign of your passage (good or bad) I’ll be extremely thankful… but I’m sadly getting accustomed to losing readers everywhere… so whatever!!

**Author's Note:**

> More to come, I can’t guarantee I’ll be fast because I work at many stories at the same time.. but I’ll try to update soon.  
> Hope you liked it, but feel free to tell me everything, it’s my very first time in this fandom so I guess I still have so much to learn.


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